In Peeta's Eyes
by HungerGames138
Summary: I'm basically re-writing The Hunger Games in Peeta's view because who knows what he did with the Careers? Who knows how he survived by the stream? I'm hoping to continue with Catching Fire and Mockingjay!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer & note: I don't own any character except for Johnny and Rye. I kept playing on the bread idea. Johnny is like Johnnycake and Rye is just rye haha. The other characters belong to the brilliant Suzanne Collins :)**** I WRITE 1 OR 2 CHAPTERS A DAY, SO PLEASE COME BACK BECAUSE I POST NEW ONES VERY FAST! I'm hoping to continue with Catching Fire and Mockingjay, but ONLY if I get reviews and people tell me they want me to do the other books! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW PLEASE!**

I wake up to the smell of baking bread, like every morning. It's 6:30, no better time to get started on the flour, at least on a normal day. But today is the day of the reaping.

I brush my teeth and quickly change into my reaping clothes, as I won't be doing much today to get it dirty. Blue, carefully ironed shirt, on top of brown, simple pants.

On reaping day, the bakery is closed, with only a few exceptions, so when I hear the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs quietly, I am surprised. The people are trying not to be heard. I venture down the stairs and see Gale Hawthorne. one of the boys from the Seam, whispering to my father, the baker. They are sitting across from each other in the bakery that is usually teeming with activity at this time. Today is the exception.

"Good morning, Gale," I say politely, even though I never liked him.

"Hi, Peeta," Gale says, not bothering to look up.

Gale hands my father a squirrel in exchange for a loaf of bread. Normally, I'd protest at such a bad trade, but today is the day of the reaping. Everyone is feeling closer today.

"Good luck, Gale." my father says, and I can't help feeling bad for Gale.

Everyone knows the reaping system is unfair. The poor get the worst of it. Every child between the ages of twelve through eighteen are entered in for the annual Hunger Games, a televised fight to the death. You are entered once, at the age of twelve, once more at the age of thirteen. Since the entries are cumulative, you'd have seven entries at the age of eighteen. It seems pretty equal, right? Not.

If you are starving and poor, you can opt to enter your name in more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a year's supply of oil and grain, but just barely enough. For people that are poor and have a big family, like Gale, this is unfair. You can do this for all your family members. One person with tesserae, one extra entry. Gale has been feeding a family of five for seven years. His name is also entered seven times because he has to. His name will be entered forty-two times this year and I will be entered only five times.

"Good luck, Peeta," says Gale, walking out the door. It's clear in his eyes that he knows I won't be going to the Capitol anytime soon, or I have a really small chance.

I sit by the window and eat a muffin for breakfast. Normally, I'd eat a loaf of stale bread, the bread no one wants. But not today. I always wake up earlier than my two brothers on reaping day. I suppose I'm just woken by nightmares, replays of previous Games, afraid that I will have to live through the terror.

I glance out the window and see Katniss Everdeen, the girl I've had a crush on since I was five, although I would never admit it to her face, and Gale. They're hunting partners. Only hunting partners, they say, only friends. I think there's something more between them, at least for Gale. They walk into The Hob, the black market here in District 12. The street is free of people. Usually, there are coal miners getting up and buying supplies before they enter the mines. Not today though. Everyone tries to sleep in if they can. At two, we are required to go to the square. Required. Peacekeepers, the officials, will investigate the reason why you weren't at the reaping. If you are on your deathbed, you are excused. If not, they'll have you imprisoned.

"Hey Peeta, you're up early!" exclaims my oldest brother, Rye, making me look up. He's safe, too old for the reaping, unlike Johnny, our other brother, and me.

"Yeah, well I had nightmares again," I say, not wanting to elaborate further. My brothers would never understand my nightmares. We have enough to eat, although the bread is usually stale and hard.

"Nice hair!" Johnny jokes, entering the kitchen, his hair a mess. My hair is ashy blond. It falls in waves over my forehead. Right now, it is a little messy, some hairs curling up.

"I'm going to comb my hair, alright?! Can you just lay off me?" I exclaim, not knowing where the anger came from. It's just, today is a stressful day for everyone.

Our house/bakery has two stories. The top is our living place, the bottom is the bakery and kitchen. I run back upstairs, to the bathroom and slam the door. I calm down and look outside the window. There's Katniss again, heading home. Getting prepared for the reaping. I suppose I'm a shy guy. I stick to the town boys in terms of friends. She has dark brown hair that's always in a braid. Her gray eyes give the impression that she's intelligent and observant. She's talented with her bow and arrows. I know this because she'll usually bring in squirrel to trade with my father. I comb my hair absentmindedly, lost in my daydreams of Katniss, until my father knocks on the door and warns that we are leaving in five minutes. At least my hair has returned to its normal wavy place.

I set off with my family, five minutes later. The children, the ones eligible for the reaping, are lead to roped off areas. The eighteen-year-olds in the front, the twelve-year-olds in the back. I am lead to the area of sixteen year olds. I glance around. Camera crews look like hawks, searching for prey. Bright banners are hanging too, but that fools no one. Everyone is silent as they file in. All we can do now is wait.

It starts to feel a little claustrophobic as the square fills up. The square's not big enough to hold all of District Twelve, so I'm not surprised when I see people being led off to another street. They watch the reaping on huge televisions. People slip through the crowd with betting slips. They're usually people without children. Bets are placed on which two children will be drawn, depending on if they're town kids or Seam, if they have taken tesserae, and of course, their ages. Most people refuse to bet, but if they do, they bet very carefully.

I focus on three chairs on the stage in the square. It's temporary, unlike the Games. Only two out of three chairs are occupied. The mayor of our district seems to murmur to the woman next to him, fresh from the Capitol. The woman's name is Effie Trinket. She is District 12's escort and she looks absolutely terrifying in her spring green suit, complete with pink hair and a grin. I remember who's supposed to be in the chair. This is the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. There have been two victors from District Twelve and only one is still living. His name is Haymitch Abernathy. He's drunk every minute of every day, though.

The mayor starts the long history of Panem. It's the same every year. The history of Panem isn't very interesting. We're the country that rose out of the ashes of what was once called North America. There were many storms, droughts, floods, fires, and other disasters that eroded the land away. Then came the wars, humanity fighting to survive, when there was already little left. Panem became the result, which consisted of thirteen districts that were ruled by a Capitol. The Dark Days happened, the districts rebelled against the Capitol. However, twelve of the thirteen districts were defeated, and the thirteenth bombed, destroyed.

The Treaty of Treason requires us, the districts, to provide one boy and one girl from each district to fight with each other and the tributes from the other districts in a vast arena that can range from a giant forest, to mountains, to a dream-like scene. We're in District 12, about as poor as you can get. If you are chosen to be a tribute, you go to the Capitol as they plan your death. Everyone has to watch and celebrate it like a holiday. Sounds like loads of fun, huh? You're only out of the Games when you die unless you win. If you're the last one standing, you win and live a life of ease and become rich. Your district gets gifts, mostly food we can't afford normally, for a year. This is the punishment for the rebellion and it shows that there should never be one again. We have no choice. In the wealthier districts, 1,2, and 4, it is considered an honor to be chosen and some actually volunteer. Even though it's illegal, they are trained beforehand. The are called the Careers, here in 12. More often than not, a Career is a winner. They are trained to survive the Games.

"It is a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayor finishes.

He introduces Haymitch, the only victor of 12 alive. Like every day, he's drunk. The crowd cheers like they're supposed to, but it's forced. He falls into the third chair on the stage, confused. He gives Effie Trinket a big hug and shrugs away from his grasp.

The mayor must be so tired of having our only living victor drunk. All the reapings are televised, so every citizen of Panem must be laughing at us. He decides to pull the attention away by introducing Effie.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Effie exclaims, as usual, in her so affected Capitol accent. "What an honor it is for me to chose the tributes of District Twelve!" This is a lie and everybody knows it. She can't wait to be promoted to a better district. Instead she's stuck with us, the district with the drunk victor, embarrassing you in front of the whole nation of Panem.

"Ladies first!" Effie says happily, with a grin.

I stare at the two balls that hold the slips of paper with the names of the children, one for girls, one for boys. I try to calculate how many slips Katniss has in the glass bowl. She's sixteen, so she has five entries that are required. She lives in a family of three since her father died in a mine explosion. Gale's father died of the same one. She's definitely taken tesserae for five years. Five times three is fifteen entries due to tesserae. Five plus fifteen equals twenty. Twenty slips. There are twenty chances in thousands that she could be picked. I try to convince myself that it's a low number. There are thousands of slips.

Effie Trinket digs deep inside the glass ball. She pulls out a slip and I hold my breath, along with all those around me. Suddenly, I am scared to think that Katniss will be picked and I'll never get to tell her how I feel. I glance over at her. I know she's worried about her sister, Primrose. Prim's twelve, so this is her first year. I'm almost positive Prim hasn't taken any tesserae, so it's pretty impossible for her to get chosen. Twenty slips with Katniss Everdeen written on them- that's not too much! I'm still trying to convince myself.

"Please, not Katniss, not Katniss!" I mutter.

It's not Katniss. It's Prim.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTE: ****I WRITE 1 OR 2 CHAPTERS A DAY, SO PLEASE COME BACK BECAUSE I POST NEW ONES VERY FAST! I'm hoping to continue with Catching Fire and Mockingjay, but ONLY if I get reviews and people tell me they want me to do the other books!**

I stand there in as much shock as those around me. With many gaping mouths, we watch Prim walk to the stage.

"Prim! Prim!" Katniss runs up to Prim and pushes her behind her with her hand. "I volunteer as tribute!" she shouts.

The whole square is silent, as we stare in surprise. We haven't had a volunteer in a while. This is because here in District Twelve, we just grit our teeth and watch, trying to ignore the terrible Games. No one, and I mean no one, has volunteered in decades. Basically, the rules are, the girl and boy tribute are picked and they ask for volunteers.

"Lovely!" Effie says. I wonder how that woman can be so happy. That's the way it is in the Capitol, I suppose. This makes me filled with fury. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." She doesn't know what to do. I chuckle at this, knowing that the Capitol needs its control.

"What does it matter?" the mayor says, pain clear in his voice. I've seen Katniss around at school, sometimes put with Madge, the mayor's daughter, so the mayor must know her at least a little. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" Prim's screaming hysterically, wrapped around Katniss like her life was on the line- which is funny, because where she's going, it is almost certain death.

"Prim, let go!" Katniss says, a little harshly for her sister. This is painful for her, everyone can see it in Katniss eyes. "Let go!"

Gale glides forward and lifts Prim into his arms. He whispers something to Katniss.

"Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" Effie's happy. With this action, everyone's pretty much forgotten the Haymitch hug.

"Katniss Everdeen." Katniss says it clearly, but only after swallowing. You can see the hesitation. It's obvious she never believed this would happen. This is Prim's first year, and Prim is probably even more terrified, she will be forever haunted. Katniss isn't a weakling- she doesn't want to give anyone the right to say that about her.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"Effie beams.

Not. A. Single. Person. Claps. I suppose this is District 12's only way to show their disapproval. Even the ones beyond caring, the ones with the betting slips.

I've never thought that Katniss was someone who District 12 cares about, and I'm sure neither does she. Katniss is from the Seam. The place where no one cares about anyone but their own families. Katniss is one of the people who aren't full every single day. I spy a few people from the Hob touch their three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and hold it out for Katniss. I follow in suit, and soon, every person in the crowd has done it. Here in Twelve, it means thank you for all you have done, and someone precious is leaving, goodbye.

Haymitch rises from his chair, and drunkily staggers his way toward Katniss. I don't like the way he's throwing his arm around Katniss. She flinches at the touch. "Look at her. Look at this one! I like her! Lots of..." He's so drunk he can't think. "Spunk!" he exclaims, finally satisfied with the word he's chosen. "More than you! More then you!" He's pointing at the camera. Is he addressing the Capitol? Or perhaps the audience? It's brave of him. No one knows for sure who he's addressing, and we don't find out because while he opens his mouth, he steps clear off the stage and lies there, unconscious.

Katniss seems to have zoned out, staring at some hills or the woods in the distance. Men appear to take Haymitch away on a stretcher.

Effie's determined to get through the reaping. Her dream to get promoted to a better district will never happen at this rate, so she has to up her game. "What an exciting day!" she exclaims, adjusting her weird, pink hair that must be a wig because her hair is teetering on the right side of her head, threatening to fall off, through all this action. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute."

Without hesitation, Effie Trinket reaches into the glass ball and grabs the first slip she sees. It happened so fast that none of the crowd was able to brace themselves. We were all still wondering about Haymitch, and Effie's wig, too.

I should have braced myself because the next two words pretty much ended my life.

"Peeta Mellark." Effie reads off the slip in a clear crisp voice.

Instantly, I feel too hot. My heart is racing and the sun is in my eyes, making me dizzy. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

Somehow, I regain my breathing ability and climb to the stage. _Steady, you can't show your vulnerability,_ but it's obvious that my face splays the shock and I struggle to appear emotionless.

Volunteers for this young man? Anyone feeling brave, like Katniss? Effie's facial expression seems to say, but she doesn't actually ask it, luckily.

Rye's too old to volunteer. Johnny won't volunteer, I know that for sure. My friends will be devastated if I die, but no one wants that fate to themselves. No one will volunteer for me.

The mayor reads the pointless Treaty of Treason, while I wonder if there's any chance of survival. I don't think any tributes even listen to the Treaty.

Katniss looks like she's lost in a memory. She's staring at me like someone just issued her a death sentence, which, if you think about it, someone has. I wonder if she wants to slit my throat. I did nothing wrong. In fact, I helped her out of a tight spot a few years ago.

It was raining like never before when I saw her, Katniss, that is. I was eleven and so was she. Katniss was at our trash bins, which had just been empty. She was so skinny, and it made me sad to think about how many days she's been hungry. My father and two brothers went to another shop to buy a new, decent pair of shoes for Johnny, so it was just Mother and me holding down the fort. My mother asked what I was looking at, so she looked out the window as well. Fury blossomed on her face and soon, she was outside. I followed, a little scared.

My mother started yelling about the Seam kids always pawing through her trash because they can't afford anything in the town. I peeked out behind my mother to look at her and she had held my gaze. Katniss neatly replaced the lid on the trash bin. She was soaking wet. Oh, how I wish I could tell her to come inside and get warmed up, maybe eat some bread! I had thought. My mother had trudged back in, cursing, and I followed, but not before I saw Katniss scurry to the old apple tree in my backyard, by the pig.

My mother had told me to bring the bread we had been baking, until Katniss had interrupted us, I walked into the dining room to wait. The bread was a golden brown, perfect, really. There's hardly a day when we don't eat stale bread, or the leftovers of the bakery that no one buys. That day we had very good business and were rewarded with actually eating bread we would normally only bake for wealthier people. I looked out the window again, at Katniss. She was slumped over in the mud.

I made a decision quickly. I kept the bread in the oven until it burned. My mother trudged in to see why I took so long and she lost it.

"Why would you keep the bread in so long?! It's burned now!" My mother had screamed.

She grabbed a long wooden spoon and smacked my face, but I refused to cry. I took the two loaves of bread and padded softly to the back door.

"Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!" My mother was still yelling at me when I walked outside in the rain.

In case my mother was watching, I started to rip off chunks of bread and tossed it to the pig. I heard the front bell ring, and I knew my mother would hurry to help a customer.

I looked back at the bakery to make sure my mother was really gone, and threw one loaf of bread in Katniss' direction. Her eyes were wide, curious, as I threw the other loaf of bread and sloshed through the mud, back to the bakery without looking back.

The next day, my eye had blackened and my cheek was swollen. I looked across the schoolyard and my eyes met Katniss'. I looked away, embarrassed, but I knew that I was the one who had helped her.

The mayor finally finishes the Treaty, and motions for Katniss and me to shake hands. Her soft hand is shaking slightly, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. I don't want to lose her in the Games. I will not kill her. I will be there for her if I can. There is only one victor in these Games. And I will ensure that it's her.


	3. Chapter 3

**NOTE: ****I WRITE 1 OR 2 CHAPTERS A DAY, SO PLEASE COME BACK BECAUSE I POST NEW ONES VERY FAST! I'm hoping to continue with Catching Fire and Mockingjay.**

After the anthem, we are lead into the doors of the Justice Building by Peacekeepers. I'm told to go into a room separate from Katniss. I wonder if Katniss' room is as rich as mine. A carpet runs across the room, and there's even a nice chair and a couch. They're made of velvet. I've felt it before when I went shopping for a new bedspread with my father. I don't know what material could be richer than velvet. It's pretty much the richest fabric we have in District 12, and only the wealthiest of the town can afford it, like Madge, the mayor's daughter. I wonder how the Capitol will look. Could it get better than this?

We, meaning the tributes, are allowed one hour for our loved ones to visit. My father comes in first, and I burst out in tears at the sight of him. I know I look weak, but there's not way for me to keep in my tears with my family. I sit down on the velvet chair.

"Dad, please, don't break down while I'm gone. Everything you'll see on that TV, it's an act. I won't be coming home, okay? I'm doing everything to ensure Katniss comes home. Her family needs her. And Dad, I-I-I fell for Katniss like you fell for her mom. And-" I'm overcome by emotion as a fresh wave of tears rolls by.

"It's okay, son, I know. I promise you I won't be falling to pieces if something happens to you. The least I can do it grant your last wish to me," Dad says, softly. My father isn't much of a talker or comforter. He sits down on the couch. "I think you're the one breaking down," he chuckles.

"I'll hold on as long as I can, but there's no guarantee I'll even make it through the blood bath!" I say.

"You're strong, Peeta. Don't underestimate yourself," my dad says. The Peacekeepers appear to take him away. His time is up and he stands up. "Good luck, Peeta. I love you."

My mother comes in next. She doesn't say much either.

"Hi, Mom. Are Johnny and Rye coming to see me too?" I ask, trying to start a conversation.

"Yes... District Twelve actually have a winner this year, did you know that?" Mom says.

I'm surprised that my mom confidence in me. I'm about to say thank you when she says, "She's a survivor, that one is."

I say nothing, because what is there to say when your own mother doesn't believe in you? What kind of person, who didn't care about Katniss all those years ago when she came completely famished and malnourished, searching the trash bins near the bakery for even a hint of food.

We sit in silence until Mom says, "Good luck, son." The Peacekeepers come to take her away.

Next, Rye and Johnny come. They sit on the couch and Johnny is crying.

"I'm so sorry for laughing at your hair today!" Johnny bursts out. I laugh because when you're saying your last goodbyes, they're normally serious. "And I'm sorry for everything else I laughed at you for! I just don't want you to go!" he shouts.

Rye tells me, "Listen, you're strong, but you need to learn how to survive. We're town kids, we don't know how to look for food. We don't know how to defend ourselves. You need knives and you need to know who to make alliances with. We've been watching these Games since we were practically toddlers! You need to do the best you can to win, okay, Peeta?" I'm taken aback at Rye's seriousness.

"I will Rye, I will try hard. I'll find weapons, learn which plants are edible, make allies, and find water quickly. I'll try really hard to come home! Don't you believe what you see on the screen is who I am. I'm not going to let the Capitol change me into someone they're not. They can't own me!" I shout, for him, more than me. I'll try hard to win, but Katniss needs to come home more than I do.

The Peacekeepers come too soon and the three of us are shouting that we love each other and that we'll do our best to get through these Games. The door slams shut. I silently weep, knowing both Katniss and I stand only a tiny chance of surviving, of coming home, that my mom doesn't believe in me. I'm feeling alone.

A Peacekeeper enters, saying that my hour is up. He leads me to a car and we speed off to the train station. Like Katniss, I've never ridden a car before. Even though there's a distinct difference between the Seam and the town, everyone in Twelve really travels on foot.

The station is full of cameras and reporters. I glance at Katniss. Her face is clear of tears, and they bear no evidence of pre-existing tears either. I'm horrified to catch an image of my own face, my eyes red. Oh well. The others will pass it off as me trying to look weak. I suppose that's a little difficult, with my broad shoulders and hard muscles. They can think what they want.

We stand at the doorway of the train and wait for the doors to open. Cameras flash and pretty much swallow us up. The doors of the train slide open smoothly ad the close just as smoothly. The reporters are still clutching their cameras, pressed against the glass, shouting our names.

"Peeta! Katniss! How do you feel about-" the reporter that was in front of me is cut off as the train pulls out of the station.

The train is fast, maybe 200 to 250 miles per hour. The speed makes my stomach churn at first, and I wonder if I'll stay sick, but the feeling soon passes. I wonder how far we'll have to travel, but at this speed, we be at the Capitol in no time.

I've learned that the Capitol is in a faraway place that the people used to call the Rockies. District 12 is a part of the region that was known as Appalachia. Appalachia used to have mountains. They used to mine coal where Twelve is, so our miners have to dig even deeper, dangerously deep.

Effie shows us to our rooms. I get a peek into Katniss' chambers because her room is first. It's even more luxurious than the room in the Justice Building. The room is painted green, the bedspread to match. I don't get to see much more because Katniss is closing the door. And locking it. Ouch. That hurts. Effie tells her to be ready for supper in an hour.

Effie leads me to my chambers and says that I can do what I want and wear what I want. I close the door behing her. My room is painted a beautiful orange, like sunset, my favorite color. The pillows match. It's exactly like Katniss', except the colors vary. My chambers include a bedroom, a dressing area, and a bathroom. I undress and step into the shower, turning it to warm. The water relaxes me, calms me down. I wish I could stay under the warm water forever, but I get out in half an hour.

I choose a clean, light blue dress shirt and dark pants that have a soft, light feel to it. I decide to sit on my bed for a few minutes, enjoying the coolness of the sheets. They'd be perfect for warm nights and cool nights alike. I can't help wondering what Katniss is doing. Then, I remember that Effie told Katniss to be ready to eat in an hour. It's been 47 minutes, and I decide to leave my chambers early.

It takes me a while to find the dining car. I pass Haymitch along the way and ask him if he wants to eat. He's drunk, like always.

"Ehh? No, I'm takin' a nap," he says, his words slurring as he stumbles to his room.

The table is set when I walk into the dining car, with forks, spoons, and knives. The plates are made of china. There are napkins and even wine glasses. Katniss, Effie, and Haymitch are nowhere in sight, so I sit alone for a few minutes, feeling a little lonely. The chairs are crafted out of dark wood, beautifully smooth, the table made of the same. There's a long, crisp, white tablecloth covering the table.  
Before long, Effie and Katniss appear. Katniss is wearing a dark, forest green shirt and long pants. She had pinned a gold pin with a small bird and a ring around it.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie says, clearly happy he's not here.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I reply.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Effie.

A thick carrot soup comes first, then a salad with lots of greens. I start to realize that our supper is going to include courses. Next comes lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and finally a chocolate cake. Everything is definitely richer than any food I've ever had, except the chocolate cake. It's pretty standard and surprisingly, we bake better cake at the bakery. It tastes more natural, too, fresh. I do all the frosting and designs. Sometimes, around New Year's, Prim pulls Katniss over to the glass displays we have, to admire my decorating skills. You can tell they think the cakes are beautiful by their smiles as they move from one cake to another. I smile at the memory.

Effie tells us to save space and that there's more food to come, basically every time we're served a new course. It's good to gain a little weight before the Games, where food is usualy scarce.

As we're finishing the main course, Effie says, "At least, you two have decent manners. The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."  
I'm pretty sure last year's tributes were from the Seam. No one from the Seam is ever full. When they saw the feast in front of them on the tribute train, surely table manners is something they wouldn't care about.

Katniss is proper and I'm sure her parents taught her right. I am a baker's son and it wouldn't be right if I didn't have any manners. I stifle a laugh as I notice Katniss eating the rest of the meal with her fingers and wipes her hands on the finger table. Effie looks annoyed.

Now that the meal's over, It's hard to keep the food that I just ate in my stomach. It's rich food and never have I eaten so much of it. Katniss looks a little sick too.

We walk to another compartment of the train and watch recaps of today's reapings in all the districts. Apparently, the Capitol tries to play the reapings throughout the day so that viewers could technically watch the whole thing live, but of course, only the Capitol people can watch it in this way because everyone else is at their own district's reaping. Some of the tributes stand out. The girl from 1 has blonde hair, green eyes, easy to get sponsors. The boy from 2, a volunteer, radiates power and control, as does the boy from 11. A little girl, wispy, and very much like Katniss' sister, Prim, is chosen in 11 and no one volunteers for her. We re-watch our own reaping, Katniss' bravery for volunteering for her sister and the desperation in her voice, afraid she won't e heard and they'll take her away.

Effie re-watches her precious wig get messy all over again. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior," she says, pursing her lips.

"He was drunk," I say, laughing. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss can't help saying with a smirk. Effie sounds like she can fix up Haymitch easily. She sounds so... so much like the Capitol people. That's the only way to describe Effie.

"Yes," Effie hisses. "How odd you to find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Haymitch staggers into the compartment at that moment. His timing couldn't have been more perfect. "I miss supper?" he says, words slurred. He vomits all over a carpet that must have cost a whole load of money to buy. He falls in the mess, making it doubly worse.

"So laugh away!" Effie says, with a glare that bores holes through Katniss and myself at the same time. In her pointy shoes, she haughtily steps around the mess and runs away from the room, clearly disgusted.


	4. Chapter 4

We survey the scene for a few minutes before exchanging a glance. Haymitch keeps trying to get out of the vomit. We will depend on him in the arena. He'll be our mentor before the Games, as well as during. He'll be the one who lines up our sponsors and such. Katniss and I pull Haymitch to his feet by his arms.

"I tripped? Smells bad," Haymitch says when we pull him up. He wipes his hand on his nose, smearing the vomit that already existed on his face.

"Let's get you back to your room," I say, even though I'm not sure he can comprehend what I'm saying. "Clean you up a bit."

It takes a long time to lead and carry Haymitch. It takes loads of teamwork too, between Katniss and me. We dump Haymitch in the bathtub because with all the expensive furniture in his room, there's simply no other place to put him. I turn the shower on him and he doesn't even flinch.

I can tell this is making Katniss uncomfortable, so I say, "It's okay, I'll take it from here."

Katniss hesitates, possibly thinking I'm kissing up to Haymitch, but relents probably because he's so drunk, he won't remember this tomorrow.

"All right. I can send one of the Capitol people to help you," Katniss says. There are too many Capitol people on board to count. They cook for us, serve us, guard us, we're their top priority.

The Capitol is already taking away our lives, the least I can do is save our privacy. "No. I don't want them," I say.

Katniss nods and heads off to her room, while I'm stuck here with Haymitch. I volunteered so she could get some rest and possibly do any emotional breakdown that she didn't do when we had the hour to say goodbye to our families. Katniss could wash off the damage before morning. Oh, who am I kidding? I volunteered so she doesn't have to wash him. How exactly am I supposed to wash the vile bile?

I grab a rough sponge that is hanging on a hook above the tub and scrub the visible vomit on Haymitch, such as his face and neck. I locate a bottle of shampoo and dump what looks to be half the bottle on Haymitch's hair. Then, I scrub his hair, removing dirt, vomit, and who knows what else? Satisfied, I practically rip his shirt off him. He can always get another one. I scrub the vomit off his chest with the same rough sponge I used for his face.

I find a bottle of body wash that's lavender scented and squeeze most of the bottle onto his chest. I rub his chest, spreading the soap, ignoring the fact that his chest hair is so long and curly, it's uncomfortable for me. Definitely ignored his chest hair. I roll him over on his back and wash it. I don't think he'd care if I didn't wash his legs and such, so I turn off the water.

"All right, Haymitch. Let's get you dry so you can sleep, and so can I," I practically shout at him. I get him to climb out of the bathtub and stand up. I grab some towels and dry him off.

I guide Haymitch to his bed and lay him down- sideways, of course, so he won't choke if he vomits more.

"I'm going now, Haymitch. See you in the morning," I say, exhausted.

I head back to my room and lie down on my bed, on top of the covers. I wonder how my parents are holding up, Rye and Johnny too. Normally, they would be celebrating that no one in our family is forced to participate in the Games, and eat a feast of good bread. But tonight, I'm not so sure they would eat the feast. My brothers and father must surely be crying. My mother, I'm not so sure. She'll be a little heartbroken, but she'll be alright in no time. She's strong. No, that wouldn't be the right word. Tough. She's tough, almost too tough to feel heartbreak over her son's probably definite death.

I sigh and strip off all my clothes and climb into bed with just my undershorts, not bothering to change into some other fancy clothes that I'll be forced leave behind, like everything else in my life- except Katniss. She's going to the Capitol with me. Suddenly, I don't feel so alone anymore. I have someone to befriend, maybe the only person I'll be able to trust in the arena, my district partner. Maybe, just maybe, we could become something more, something more than friends. The darkness is welcoming, and I fall into a slumber, my last thoughts about Katniss.

I awake early in the morning and immediately wonder if Katniss is awake too. This thought puts me into action, climbing out of bed, choosing an outfit that's similar to the one I wore yesterday, and finding the dining car again.

Only Haymitch is in the dining car, eating a roll. His face is red and swollen, probably from yesterday's vomit mess and such. I sit down and grab a roll myself, just as Effie passes through the dining car, muttering about tributes needing to be on time, which probably means Katniss will be coming soon.

Effie returns and disappears in pursuit of a fresh pot of coffee she believes she can find three cars over. She's still muttering about lateness and such

"So, Peeta. You're a baker's son, huh? Do you have this kind of bread?" Haymitch asks, holding up a roll.

"Uh, I think so. Have you ever eaten it before at our bakery?" I ask because I'm not always at the bakery. Sometimes, I'm moving bags of flour from place to place on my mom's orders, or doing other errands.

Effie comes back with her coffee and sits down to listen to our comversation.

"No, of course not. I don't like to go to the market shops too much. Don't like the  
people much. Once, I stumbled into the bakery though, by accident. It was when you were a little kid. You saw me on the street near my house with my liquor bottle, saying it wasn't good for me. You smashed it and I was so mad. I grabbed you by the back of your jacket and demanded to speak to your parents about your behavior. You pointed the way to the bakery and I was yelling at your parents for not teaching you better. You cried and your dad said it was a misunderstanding and you would never do it again," Haymitch says, chuckling.

Katniss enters the car and Effie brushes past her, muttering obscenities.

I realize I'm still holding my roll and set it down on my plate. I run my hands through my hair absentmindedly and look at Katniss, still in the doorway. She stares at me, probably wondering when I got here. I blush and look away, embarrassed.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Haymitch raise his eyebrow and mumble, "Hmmm, interesting." He looks at Katniss and says, "Sit down! Sit down!" and waves her over to the seat next to me.

Katniss sits down and is immediately served an enormous platter. There are foods like ham, eggs, and fried potatoes. A tureen holds fruits and ice. She gets a selection of rolls in a basket, just like me. Orange juice, coffee, and a drink called hot chocolate, are her drink choices.

It's clear Katniss has never had any of these things, and has no clue what the hot chocolate is. I ha just learned it a few minutes ago myself, when I was served it. "They call it hot chocolate. It's good," I blurt out to help her identify the drink she finds a mystery.

I dip bits of rolls and dip it in my hot chocolate instead of just drinking it flat out. I observe Katniss in between my dipping. She takes a cautious sip to test it out, then doesn't have any food until she drains her cup of hot chocolate. She then eats what her stomach can hold. I watch Haymitch for a while, noticing him thinning a glass of red juice with a liquid from a bottle. The fumes help me identify it as some sort of spirit, and I see Katniss shrink back, recognizing it too.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss tells Haymitch.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive," Haymitch says, and laughs. I glance over at Katniss, angry. Our lives are on the line and we get this drunkard who can't even stay sober enough to give us a shred of real advice.

"That's very funny," I say. Then, I lash at the glass Haymitch is holding. It falls to the floor and shatters on contact. "Only not to us."

Haymitch thinks about this scene before him and then punches me in the jaw. I fall out of my chair and see Haymitch reach for his spirits. Katniss drives a knife through the table. Oooh, fierce. I can't see much from the floor.

Haymitch says, "Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I stand up and scoop ice from the tureen of fruit. I'm raising it to the red mark on my jaw when Haymitch says, "No. Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules," I protest.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better," Haymitch says before turning to Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"

I'm pretty sure Katniss can throw a knife. I know she's best with a bow and arrows, but I'm sure she would be smart enough to carry more than one weapon with her and be able to use them. Katniss yanks out the knife and throws it into the wall a good distance away. The knife lodges in the seam between two panels. I could probably do the same, since I practice at home with the knives in our kitchen, but since Haymitch didn't ask, I don't show my skills.

Haymitch looks impressed. "Stand over here. Both of you." Haymitch orders, his head nodding toward the room's center. We do as he asks and he circles around us, checking our muscles, prodding them, examining our faces. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

Along with other strange aspects of the Capitol people, they like to see more good-looking tributes and will sponsor the best-looking ones. Every tribute knows this, but to say it out loud would probably make you lose sponsors.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say," Haymitch says.

Happy to have a little help, I say, "Fine.

"So help us," Katniss says, testing our agreement. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist," Haymitch tells us.

"But-" Katniss starts.

"No buts. Don't resist," Haymitch says. With that happy note, he grabs the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. The car goes dark as he closes the door behind him. I realize the same time Katniss does, that we're in the tunnel that leads up to the Capitol. It goes through mountains. These mountains were one reason for losing the war that formed the Treaty of Treason, making us travel to the Capitol to fight. The rebels had trouble getting through the mountains, where they were in plain view, easy for the Capitol's air forces to destroy.

We stand for a while, waiting for the darkness of the tunnel to end. The train slows and bright light shines into the compartment.

Katniss and I can't help but run to the windows, to see a sight we never hae before: the Capitol. The magnificent beauty of it is so exaggerated like you wouldn't believe, but now, seeing it in front of me, there is no way anyone can describe its grandeur. The buildings are so high they almost reach the sky, throwing rainbows everywhere. The cars are shiny and clean, rolling down wide, paved streets that are so dreamlike. People dressed in odd clothing, bright colors, skin dyed, exuding richness. These strangely colored people turn toward us, recognizing the train and possibly our faces.

I notice Katniss step away from the window, probably sickened by the fact that they will watch twenty-four children on their televisions destroy each other, while they live their rich lives, screaming for more gore in the Games. Perhaps I should step away too, but their richness pulls me in, the possibility that they will sponsor us, helping us live longer. I wave and smile at the crowd like I was born to do it. I don't feel nervous in fromt of crowds and this is an opportunity to win their favor. We pull up at the station so I stop waving. I see Katniss looking at me and say, "Who knows? One of them may be rich."


	5. Chapter 5

**SOSOSOSOOO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I HAD TO FINISH MY SUMMER READING ESSAY TODAY! AND THEN THERE WERE TWO EPISODES OF PRETTY LITTLE LIARS ON IN A ROW... anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter. I did :D BTW: THE WHOLE DIALOGUE OF THIS FANFICTION IS THE SAME AS THE BOOK, BUT ONLY WHEN KATNISS IS PRESENT. OTHERWISE, THE DIALOGUE WAS MADE UP BY ME. I did not use any exact same lines anywhere in the book, though they may be very similar, besides the dialogue. I forgot to mention this before and I remember the whole plagiarism thing, so yeah.**

** Please keep checking back! AND REVIEW! Thanks :) Okay, this is boring you, I know, so enjoy this chapter! **

I had grown a little hair on my chin and I suppose it was a symbol of me growing up, so I liked it. Today's the day the Capitol takes it away.

I've been in the Remake for around two hours and my prep team is still getting rid of my "obvious" problems, saying my stylist, Portia, won't see me until my prep team is done with me. They have actually made my nails into a good, round shape. They haven't put nailpolish or anything, but after years of baking bread, lifting flour, my nails were bound to be in a ruined state. They ridded my underarms of hair and hair on my chest that looked invisible to me, but my prep team said were there. Dirt and some layers of my skin have been scrubbed and washed off. They've washed and dried my hair too. It's back to its ashy blond waves over my forehead, but is softer than ever.

A woman on my prep team, Caspia, dyed completely light pink with flowers stenciled all over her body and face, with blonde hair in a ponytail, grabs an extremely hot package of something and opens it. Hot, sticky goo seeps out and she spreads it around my chin.

"This is to keep your chin hair-free and smooth for the rest of your life!" Caspia chimes.

"What?!" I shout, angrily, attempting to wipe the goo off my face.

"No, no, no!" she yells. "Don't do that! Not while it's still seeping into your pores and removing the hair!" She swipes my hands away.

At last, I remember Haymitch's last words, telling me not to resist what the prep team does. I sigh and sit there as the goo apparently seeps into my pores and removes my hair. It has a faint tickling sensation and soon, the other two people on my prep team are washing it off. Their names are Delpher and Glidera. Delpher has straight, sky blue hair, dark brown skin with zebra stripes, and yellow eyes like a cat's. He's the quiet and calm one of my prep team, but does what he thinks is best. Glidera is the bold one, painted orange with black stripes all over. She keeps her natural hair and eye color, dark brown. Her eyeshadow gives her the look of a tiger. She has deep, red lipstick.

"There, perfect!" Delpher says, after he scrubs my face with a lemony soap and washes it off.

"Let's put on the makeup!" Glidera shouts with glee. Makeup? I thought that was for girls only.

Glidera applies a really light, pale layer of makeup. They make my eyes more dramatic and huge with mascara. Good thing that's about all the makeup they use!

"Wash time!" Caspia shouts. They remove a robe I've been able to wear on and off. They all pull me of the table I've been lying on and pour a liquid that soothes my skin, washing it.

"Perfect! You aren't so bad!" Glidera says.

"Well, I've been working in a small bakery around fire in District Twelve since I was small. I had no need to look nice." I reply with a touch of sweetness to win their admiration.

"Of course, you don't have cause to look nice. Poor boy!" Delpher says and the other two sympathize with him. "Let's call Portia!"

They leave the room, chattering excitedly, like monkeys. They're so clueless and ridiculous. They always exclaim and shout how they feel instead of simply just saying it. Perhaps, this is a very Capitol-like thing. It's impossible not to mimic their accents, with a hiss on the letter S, clipped words, odd vowels, and man other abnormal things.

I stand, completely naked, waiting for Portia, and thinking of home as I slowly stroke my soft hair and feel my smooth chin. The door opens softly and a woman I suppose is Portia, enters.

"Hello, Peeta. I'm Portia your stylist," she says. She doesn't have te same Capitol accent like my prep team.

It's amazing how normal she looks. Most of the Capitol people are so dyed, stenciled, and just plain unnatural-looking, like my prep team, but Portia looks so normal. Her caramel colored hair, a very natural color, is wavy and long, falling past her shoulders. Her skin is light, smooth, and clear. The only trace of the Capitol's influence on her is her blue eyeshadow. It's carefully put on, makin it clear she's a professional. Portia exudes a natural beauty that I can't claim anyone else in the Capitol does.

She walks around me, taking in every inch. She studies my face and nods, smiling. "Come with me," she says and walks through a doorway to another room. I pull on my robe and follow her. It's a small sitting room with a couch and a chair. Portia and I share the couch.

"Are you hungry?" she asks.

"No," I reply. "You're a new stylist right!"

"Yes," says Portia. "And in case you might be wondering, Cinna, my partner and Katniss' stylist, and I chose District 12. We figured you could do with some help. So, as you know, Cinna and I must dress you to reflect your district's specialty."

For the opening ceremonies, each tribute is to represent their district's prime industry. For District 4, it's fishing. For District 11, it's agriculture. For us, 12, it's coal. Since there's not much you can do with the industry of coal, our tributes never seem to pull many sponsors. Baggy coal miner suits, stark naked and covered in coal dust, none of the past ideas have done anything to win the crowd's favor.

"So I'll be in some coal miner's outfit? Better than being naked and covered in coal dust," I say, laughing.

"No, nothing as ridiculous as that. See, Cinna and I were thinking about focusing on something different, the coal itself. What do we do with coal? We burn it. You're a baker's son right? So you've worked with fire before?"

A few hours later, I am dressed in a simple black unitard. It's long, covering me from my ankles to my neck. I have shiny boots that reach up to my knees. A fluttering cape made of streams if red, orange, and yellow matches my headpiece. They're the important part of the costume. Cinna and Portia are going to light them on fire just before we enter the streets. Apparently, it's not real fire. Or so Portia and Cinna say. I don't believe I wom't be horribly scorched, reduced to ashes when we enter the city's center.

Caspia, Delpher, Glidera, Portia, and I meet up with Katniss and who I suppose is Cinna. Everyone is so excited over the "splash" we'll make. Cinna just looks a little weary as he accepts the congratulations from the others.

We're lead down to the bottom floor of the Remake Center. Each district's tributes are loaded into chariots lead by 4 horses. The horses pulling our chariot are so black, like coal. The animals have gone through training, so we don't need to hold the riens. Cinna and Portia arrange our positions on the chariot and our capes. Then, they move to the side to chat.

Katniss turns to me and whispers, "What do you think? About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," I say, gritting my teeth.

"Deal," she says. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle."

"Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?" I ask.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around open flame," Katniss says.

Suddenly, we're both laughing. We're just so terrified about the Games, nervous about the chariot ride, and why not admit it? I'm nervous about losing her.

The opening music begins to play, cutting us off. It's blasting loudly, almost deafening. The doors slide open and you can hear the cheers, even over the music. The ride will take about twenty minutes. It will end at City Center, the place where they'll welcome us and play the anthem. We'll be taken to the Training Center. The Training Center will be the place all the tributes will stay at before we enter the arena to start the Games.

District 1's chariot, pulled by horses white as sugar, is rolling out. The Capitol's luxury items are made by District 1, so the tributes are spray-painted silver. They're wearing tunics that shimmer with jewels. The audience roars with excitement. District 1 usually has the best costumes.

District 2 gets ready to follow 1, and in no time at all, it's our turn. Cinna appears to light our capes and headdresses. "Here we go then" he says.

Katniss and I wait exchange a glance as we wait anxiously for the hear to set in, but we only feel a slight tickling feeling.

Cinna sighs in relief and says, "It works." We let out sighs of our own. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"

Cinna has another idea just after he leaps off the chariot. The music, so deafeningly loud, drowns out his voice. He shouts again, but it's still to loud. Finally, he makes a gesture and Katniss asks, "What's he saying?"

"I think he said for us to hold hands," I say. I grab Katniss' right hand with my left quickly, so we get to know if I did the right thing. Cinna smiles, nodding and gives me a thumbs up. We enter the city, Cinna's thumbs up fresh in our minds, the only thing assuring us from the Capitol's people as we enter the streets.

The crowd's reaction is immediate. First, they're alarmed, surprised. Then, cheers fill the air, and we command everyone's attention. No one pays attention to the chariots ahead of us. I'm frozen, amazed that the cheering is for us. Then, I see us on a large television and we look dazzling. The capes are blazing, practically leaving a trail and throwing shadows everywhere. The headpiece's fire flickers, illuminating our faces. The very minimal makeup is perfect, making us recognizable, but beautiful.

I watch as Katniss seems to gain confidence. Her chin is slightly higher. She's smiling for once, and she actually waves to the crowd. I follow her example, lifting my chin higher. I smile and wave. Dozens of people wave back, loving the attention.

"Peeta, I love you!" someone shouts.

My heart lurches, wishing it was Katniss that had said it. Wishes don't always come true, though. I find myself shouting, "I love you, I love you all!" before I can stop myself. About a hundred Capitol girls faint upon hearing that.

The world comes alive with our names. "Peeta! Peeta! Over here! Please look over here! Katniss! Katniss! I love you! You're so beautiful!"

Hope explodes inside of me and I feel like I actually have a chance of winning the Games. I can handle a knife and there'll almost definitely be one. I can definitely pull up sponsors with this crowd. Then, I remember my promise to save Katniss instead of myself.

We enter the City Circle and Katniss looks at our hands linked together. She tries to loosen her grip, probably realizing how tightly she's been holding it, but I stop her. "No don't let go kf me. Please, I might fall out of this thing."

"Okay," she says.

The chariots are parked in the loop of the City Circle, completely filling it. Every window around the Circle is packed with people, peering down at us. District 12's chariot, also known as our chariot, is last to pull up in front of President Snow's beautiful, huge mansion.

The president gives the same welcome he always does. He's standing on a balcony above us, his paper-white hair blowing around. He's small and thin, not looking threatening at all. During the speech, the cameras are to cut away to the faces of us, the children chosen to die and their main source of entertainment. We are getting more screentime than anyone else. Yup, we're definitely getting sponsors. As it becomes darker, our flickering is hard to ignore and I feel the president's stare, along with everyone else. No viewer can take their eyes off us. The anthem blares and the cameras try to cut around each chariot. As our chariot goes around the circle one more time before dropping us back to the Training Center, the cameras can't stop focusing on us.

The doors slide shut behind us and our prep teams surround us, praising us, hugging us. The other tributes are glaring at us, pissed that we burned their spotlight away. Portia shows up and removes my cape and headdress, Cinna doing the same for Katniss. They extinguish the flames and I feel like we're back to our normal selves. We're not the cheery, wavy people wearing wonderful clothes by the best of designers.

Katniss realizes she still has an iron grip on my hand and opens her stiff fingers. Come to think of it, mine are hurting too. We both massage our hands and I say, "Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there

"It didn't show," Katniss replies. "I'm sure no one noticed."

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you." Then I smile, a real smile unlike the one I pulled on the chariot.

Unexpectedly, Katniss stands on her tiptoes, leans over, and kisses me. It's on the bruise that resulted from Haymitch punching my jaw, but it's still the best thing I've experienced all day. Which is saying something because of all the excitement of the night. In fact, this is probably the best day ever.

I just hope I get a chance to say the three words to Katniss that the Capitol girls had yelled at me: I love you, because I don't plan on winning these Games, but I know who does. I want her to know, as I die, that I love her and I have since I was five. I want her to know how she is to my eyes. The most beautiful thing on the planet, in the universe and that to my eyes, what she wore today, the flame costume, is how I see her every day. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Heartstopping. I could go on, but I would be dead by the time I finished the list.


	6. Chapter 6

The Training Center is where we'll stay before going into the arena. It's private, designed for the tributes and their crew for maximum comfort and luxury. Because each district has a whole floor to themselves, someone settled which floor is for which district easily. The floor numbers match your district number.

We enter the elevator that has walls made of crystal. I notice that Katniss likes to stay at the wall, watching us zoom up to floor 12, as the Capitol people shrink to ants. I like it as well, having never ridden an elevator, but it seems a little odd if I keep asking Effie to take us up and down.

Effie and Haymitch are going to oversee us until the arena. Effie's always rounding us up, leading us places, but at least she's always on time, unlike Haymitch. I don't know about Katniss, but I haven't seen him since he made the deal with us that he'd stay sober to help us. He's probably passed out, judging by the amount of alcohol he takes in. On the other hand, Effie Trinket's giddy with happiness, excited by our success on the chariot ride in the opening ceremonies. She compliments us on how we conducted ourselves, winning over the Capitol. Apparently, she's been busy, talking to important people in the Capitol, getting us sponsors.

"I've been very mysterious though," Effie says. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district."

I'm a little confused and I disagree with Effie. Barbarism is too strong a word to describe District 12. I would use "poverty" or "poor conditions" to describe our district, but not barbarism. I don't think Effie ry knows what our district goes through, only knowing that our district is the least desirable one. Poor Effie. She's Capitol raised and will never understand why barbarism is not a word to describe District Twelve.

"Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district," Effie continues. "But I said, and this is very clever of me, I said, 'Well if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" Effie gives us a winning smile and we just nod enthusiastically, even though we both know she's wrong.

Coal doesn't turn into pearls, I know that much. They're made in oysters or something, all the way in District 4. I'm pretty sure if you put pressure on coal, it'll just turn into, well, crushed coal. I'm wondering if these Capitol people know that Effie's been saying the wrong thing the whole day. Or are they too obsessed with themselves that they don't care?

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that," Effie says, her lips in a straight line, pursed. "But don't worry, I'll get him at gunpoint if necessary."

I can only hope she's not serious.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I walk into my room, even bigger than my chambers on the train if that's possible. My room's just as luxurious as the one on the train, but there are just so many gadgets and buttons! I walk into the shower, thinking there may be less buttons to press, but it's even worse. In a panel, there are probably a lot more than a hundred choices. They're all different, changing the temperature of the water to wash in, pressure, soap, scents, and all that. I step out of the shower stall an onto a mat that blow-dries my body with heaters. What a rich, easy life these people live, I think to myself. I put my hand on a box that gives my scalp a tingle as it dries my hair, putting it back to normal.

I walk to the closet and find an outfit that fits my taste, or rather, program the closet to do it. I lie down on the bed, thinking about the kiss that Katniss gave me. Does she think I'm her enemy and gave me that to gain her trust? Does she love me, like I do her? Probably not. Was it just a friendly peck on the cheek? I lie there, confused, overcome by the powerful effect of love. I doze off, my last thoughts on Katniss.

I dream that I'm in the arena, face covered in blood. Someone's coming on my right, but I can't see who it is. My heart's racing and I can't see. The blood has formed a mask on me and it covers my eyes. The person is coming fast. I throw my knife, blindly, and she screams. I hit my mark. I'm safe! I've killed them! I'm the last person alive, I think!

Suddenly, she screams again. This time she screams, "Peeta!" and I somehow get the mask of blood from my face. My heart lurches. It's Katniss.

I run over to Katniss, who fell down on the ground, knife buried in her chest. "Katniss! What did I do!? Please! Wake up!" I check her pulse. Dead. I scream in agony. "KATNISS! KATNISS!"

I wake up screaming for Katniss and I notice someone's in my room. It's Haymitch. He's laughing at me. There's only one problem. He's not drunk this time. He's going to remember this. Shoot.

Haymitch actually looks cleaned up and groomed. Maybe he has his own prep team and stylist.

"This doesn't mean anything!" I yell at Haymitch, blushing bright red.

"Right, Lover Boy. It's time for dinner." Haymitch laughs again, leaving the room. This is horrible. What's going to happen when he tells Katniss? Wait, why would he tell Katniss? My best kept secret is now out. I'm so dead. Well, the Capitol was ensuring that anyway.

On that happy thought, I hop out of bed an head to the dining room, hoping to find Katniss. Instead, I find Portia and Cinna.

"Have you seen the roof?" Cinna asks.

"No, there's a roof?!" I ask, surprised.

"Follow me," Cinna says and I follow him past our bedroom doors. There's a flight of stairs and we head on up. We reach a dome-shaped room and step through the door outside. There's a garden with chimes everywhere. A railing not quite high enough to block tributes from jumping off the edges. I look over the edge. It's amazing, the view, the buildings touching the sky, people noticing us and actually waving, the cars zooming at fast speeds. I wave back halfheartedly, just wanting to see Katniss especially after that horrible nightmare.

"What stops the tributes from jumping?" I ask.

"This," Cinna reaches out over the railing. I hear a zap and he pulls his hand back. "It's some kind of electric field. Anyways, Katniss and Effie should be back soon. We head back downstairs to the dining room.

Portia's on a balcony, so Cinna and I join her.

Katniss arrives and I resist the urge to run over and hug her because that would be unusual. Effie follows behind her.

We head over to the dinner table. Silent men offer wine to us. They are all pretty young, maybe mid-twenties. Their tunics are white. I refuse the wine, having drunk wine before and hating it. Katniss probably never had it, so she accepts a glass.

Haymitch appears when dinner is just being served. Everyone looks surprised to see him so cleaned up and looking healthier than usual. Haymitch doesn't refuse the wine because, well, he's Haymitch. I wonder if he decided to keep himself sober because he thinks one of us can win. But, there can only be one winner and I'll protect Katniss until I die.

Haymitch and Effiie seem to be alright so far, not glaring or exchanging insults. They're complimenting our stylists on the opening ceremonies and all. Katniss and I are silent as we eat, trying to concentrate on the food. A hot bowl of mushroom soup, greens with the tiniest tomatoes I have ever seen, roast beef sliced thinly, noodles in some greenish sauce, delicious cheese that's so hot it burns my tongue but melts on it too. Grapes come with the cheese. The servers who had served us wine keeping the plates and glasses full. They don't talk to anyone, not even each other. There's something suspicious about their whole behavior, but I don't question it. Perhaps, like the Capitol people on the train, their job is to take care of us.

I'm almost full, so I listen to what the adults are saying. Katniss seems o be doing the same. The adults are talking about our costumes in the ceremony. "I just loved the whole fire idea!" says Effie. "I thought they were going to be burned alive, though! The Capitol people are just so obsessed with it! They were on fire! Well, you know what I mean. They were literally on fire, but you know what I'm saying!" It's sad listening to Effie trying to say the right thing, correcting herself when everyone understands the meaning. Effie probably thinks that she sounds stupid, trying to cover up her mistake. Are all the Capitol people like this, caring about nothing but what others think of them?

One of the silent, white tunic wearing servers, a girl this time, places a big cake, too much for the five of us to finish, and lights it quietly. A fire flares and the flames die down, flickering around the edges and soon burns itself out. It's an amazing thing to see and I'm wondering what makes the fire burn for so long when Katniss asks, "What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" She starts to look up at the girl and asks, "That's the last thing I wa- oh! I know you!"

Both Katniss and the girl are surprised. She has dark red hair and pale skin. The girl's clearly terrified. She shakes her head, denying it, and scurries away. Now even I'm confused! Why was she so scared? Was she so terrified she couldn't just say no? Is she scared of Katniss? What did Katniss ever do to her?

I look over at the adults for an explanation, but they appear to be arching their eyebrows and their eyes are practically popping out of their faces.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" snaps Effie, meanly. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" Katniss asks the question that's on my mind.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak." says Haymitch, eliminating almost half my questions. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order," Effie says haughtily. "Of course, you don't really know her."

"No, I guess not, I just-" Katniss stammers. One look at her and I can tell that she's lying. I've been watching her for almost 12 years.

I decide to rescue her. I conjure up a random name, a girl from school. Snapping my fingers, I say, "Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I keep thinking she looks familiar as well. Then I realize she's a dead ringer for Delly." That's an obvious lie, but only if you've encountered Delly. Delly is one of the nicest girls in our school, smiling at everyone. She's quite large, with yellowish hair. She looks nothing like the dark red haired girl.

Luckily, Katniss understands what I'm doing and says, "Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair."

"Something about the eyes, too," I say. A good lie has specific details, but not too many to give anything away.

Everyone at the table relaxes, or rather, the adults do. I'm just on edge as Katniss is, wanting an explanation. She owes me, after all, I did cover her.

"Oh, well. If that's all it is," Cinna says, letting out a little sigh of relief. He's so normal-looking that I forget he's still a Capitol person. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut."

The cake is slowly devoured. Once we are done and totally stuffed, we go to watch the replay of the ceremonies. I find District 1 and 2 making a semi-good impression, but none quite as explosive as ours. Upon seeing us come out of the Remake Center, everyone in the room goes "Ahh!" even though it can't even compare to the actual thing.

"Who's idea was the hand holding?" Haymitch asks.

"Cinna's," Portia pipes up.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," Haymitch says, proudly. "Very nice."

I instantly think about our hand holding, compared to the other tributes that completely ignore each other. I understand what Haymitch is saying. We're acknowledging that we have a partner, maybe even a friend. I'm sure people have noticed that as much as our blazing fiery capes and headdresses. I wonder if the Capitol's over-analyzing it, saying that we're lovers or something. An idea starts to form.

They eat up love stuff all over the Capitol, I'm sure. It'll be a first. A love confession to all of Panem. You see, every Games has an interview of 3 minutes long, where you really try to win sponsors. Maybe, a love confession is all I need. However, I'm thinking too ahead of now.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch says, interrupting my thoughts. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

I walk with Katniss to her room, but don't intend on letting her enter her room before she tells me about the Avox girl. When we reach Katniss' door, I lean against the frame, almost blocking the entrance, commanding her attention. "So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here."

She knows that I want an explanation. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm conjuring up ways to kill her. She's probably wondering if this will give me an advantage. I can tell this by her hesitation. I've been watching her since we were five. I would know.

Finally, Katniss gives in, probably needing a friend, so far away from home. She looks around the hallway, and I think she's wondering if there's hidden cameras.

I know the perfect place. "Have you been on the roof yet?" I wait for her reaction. She shakes her head no. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though."

Gears turn in her head and she realizes I mean that no will overhear us there. "Can we just go up?"

"Sure, come on," I say, leading her up the flight of stairs. Before we reach the roof, we encounter

The night is cool and windy, but the view is still as magnificent as ever. It's amazing to see the lights of almost every building on. In 12, we're lucky to get more than a few hours of electricity, so we use candles at night when needed. The Games are an exception, if they're showing it live and we're forced to watch. Here, it seems like the lights will never disappear. It will always be bright.

We walk to a railing and look down at the street. The Capitol people have been busy. The cars are zooming by and people are shouting. Probably insults. It's amazing. At home, everyone's tired, wishing to go to bed. But here, it's all party, party, party. Celebrate us coming. Celebrate our deaths.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" I start the conversation.

"What'd he say?" Katniss asks.

"You can't," I reply. I reach out into the empty air and am rewarded with an electric, painful, zap. I don't dare to cry in pain because then I'd look weak. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about safety," Katniss says, laughing and I know she's thinking about the woods that she hunts in, back in 12. Suddenly, her face turns serious. "Do you think they're watching us now?"

"Maybe," I have to admit she's pretty cautious. "Come see the garden."

The garden is mainly made of flower beds and trees in pots. Many, many, maybe hundreds, of chimes hang from the branches. They make metallic tinkling sounds as the wind blows. The tinkling will block out two whispering people. Perfect. I look at Katniss.

Katniss looks at a flower. "We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game," she whispers.

"You and your father?" I ask, maintaining the quiet volume.

"No, my friend Gale. Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it," she says quietly. Then she says nothing, lost in thought. I give her time to recall the memory. "The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere," she continues sadly. "I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

"Did they see you?" I ask curiously.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock," she replies. I can see the sadness, the regret, in her eyes and I know that they did see her, that the memory will haunt her as long as she's here.

After a few minutes of silence, I say, "You're shivering." I don't know if it's because of the disturbing story she told me or because of the cold wind. I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She hesitates, almost taking a step back, but relents as she feels its warmness.

"They were from here?" I ask, even though I know the answer. I secure a button at her neck, trying to keep myself busy.

She nods and I ask, "Where do you suppose they were going?"

"I don't know that," she says. There's nothing beyond 12, really. It's only wilderness and who woul live in the wild? There's also District 13's ruins. Supposedly, they still smolder from toxic bombs, but I'm not sure I believe that. I think it's probably just a wasteland. "Or why they would leave here."

"I'd leave here," I blurt out, instantly regretting it. I wasn't careful in saying it an it could have been heard over the chimes and wind. I think of something to say to cover up my error. Laughing, I say, "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime."

It sounds just enough for any eavesdroppers to think I'm just a tribute that's homesick. Homesick, not weak. Perfection.

"It's getting a little chilly. We better go in," I say. We walk back to the dome-like room an close the roof's door. "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I know who he is, but I want to know more about her relationship with Gale.

"Yes. Do you know him?" she asks.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other," I say.

"No, we're not related." she replies. I know they're not related, but I couldn't help hoping.

I nod, trying not to look annoyed. Gale's my main competition, I suppose. "Did he come to say goodbye to you?"

"Yes," Katniss says, watching my reactions. "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

This surprises me. He likes Prim, that much I know. She always trades bread for her goat's cheese. I raise my eyebrows. "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys."

"He knew your mother when they were kids," I say.

Surprise is magnified on her face, but it's quickly disappearing. "Oh, yes. She grew up in town."

"See you in the morning then," she says. We've reached Katniss' door. She returns my jacket.

"See you," I say, walking down the hall.

I head back to my room. It's empty, of course. I strip off my clothes and just have my undershorts on. I let the darkness pull me into a slumber, my last thoughts on Katniss and how I don't want her to die like in my nightmares.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a bad choice to go to sleep so soon. My slumber is filled with nightmares.

I have the same nightmare as before, the one with me killing Katniss while covered in blood.

I have a new one too. I'm in a forest, green and lush. There are some blueberries growing in a bush and I strip the bush of its fruit. Katniss is next to me, dying of thirst. We both are, but I give her the berries first. She takes one and I notice that it changes to a different berry, but before I can say it, she pops it in her mouth. Her eyes open wide. "Pe-" That's all she can say before she collapses on the ground.

"Katniss? Katniss, get up! Please, Katniss!" I'm pleading with my life. I scream in agony and eat a whole handful of the berries, but they don't do anything. I pick a few more and they're blueberries. I don't collapse. I'm left in this world without Katniss.

The world becomes black and my next nightmare comes.

Katniss appears to be kissing me, but suddenly they start to morph into that Avox with the dark red hair. I try to pull away, but her grasp is too tight. She appears to be biting my tongue, too. I can't feel hers, of course. She morphs into Delly Cartwright and she's too strong. I can't pull away. She's too strong, too large to shove. Suddenly, Katniss appears behind me, eyes wide in shock.

"Peeta?" she says.

The world disappears and I plunge into my next nightmare.

I see Katniss coming toward me and I'm running for her, too. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a spear buries itself in her neck. I never reach her because a wall of fire erupts in front of me, covering her from view.

"KATNISS!" I wake up screaming again, soaked in sweat.

I hear a chuckle and my eyes dart to the left. Haymitch is standing in my doorway, again.

"Done screaming? You shout things in your sleep. If you love her so much, tell her. Where you're going, it's about to be certain death anyways. How hard is it to tell one girl you care about her?" Haymitch says, amused.

"It's hard for me, all right?" I say, covering my head with a pillow to block out his voice.

"It's time for breakfast," Haymitch says. "I'm going to wait for you outside your door."

An outfit has been laid on the edge of my bed. I put on the burgundy tunic. It's long-sleeved and loose. The pants are black and tight. There are soft leather shoes. These are the clothes Portia picked for me to wear for training.

I walk to the bathroom and find a comb. I look in the mirror and my hair's as messy as it was on reaping morning. The memory of Johnny's joking around about my hair brings a sad wave of loneliness.

I wonder what my family and friends thought of our fiery entrance? Did my friends laugh at our hand holding, seeing me interacting with a girl from the Seam? I only stay with the town kids at school, barely talking to any Seam kids, much less Seam girls. And, I've never talked to Katniss since the train. Did they smile happily, thinking the tributes of 12 will actually get more sponsors? I push away any more worried thoughts so I won't feel the emotions rolling in at breakfast. Today is training day. I have to focus on learning things that'll be valuable enough to keep me alive in the arena.

I run my fingers through my hair and grab the comb. I gently comb my hair, arranging my hair in the perfect waves on my forehead. I deem my presentation excellent and head out of the bathroom

Haymitch joins me and we walk to the dining room together. Katniss is alone with an Avox, dipping bits of her roll into her hot chocolate. We're wearing matching outfits and I can't help thinking it symbolizing that we're on the same side.

"Good morning, Katniss," I say with a smile. She nods at me and Haymitch repeats my sentence.

I eat a good breakfast: Warm rolls dipped in hot chocolate in a mug. I'm a little nervous about today. District 12's fiery entrance yesterday was spectacular, but today, the Careers will show us our place. Today's their day to show us what they're made of. Today's the first day of few that really matter.

Haymitch has finished platter after platter after platter of soup. Finally after a while, he pushes his plate away, clearly satisfied. Haymitch's hand disappears into his pocket and he pulls out a flask, taking a long pull on it. Then he lifts his elbows on the table, leaning toward us. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now," He says.

"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks, confused. We know each other well enough.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," Haymitch says, eyeing us.

Exchanging a look with Katniss, I say, "I don't have any secret skills. And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."

Katniss looks at me in surprise. I don't think she knows that my dad actually shares the squirrels. Fresh meat is fresh meat to us, except we only eat it when Mom's not around. She's got that aura of hate for Seam kids, so I was surprised when she said Katniss might win the Games this year.

Katniss turns back to Haymitch and says, "You can coach us together." I nod in agreement.

Haymitch looks happy, so perhaps he hoped we could be trained together. Maybe it's easier. "All right, so give me some idea of what you can do."

"I can't do anything," I admit. Being in bakery all day doesn't give you many skills. "Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't. Katniss. I know you're handy with a knife," Haymitch says.

"Not really. But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow," Katniss says.

"And you're good?" Haymitch asks, suddenly interested.

She thinks about it. "I'm all right," she says.

All right? All right? Way to underrate yourself! "She's excellent. My father buys her squirrels. He always comments how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer," I say, trying to help Haymitch understand that she's better than she thinks.

"What are you doing?" She's suspicious of me, trying to see if I'm tricking her into something. When will she learn I'm trying to help her, keep her alive?

"What are you doing?" I ask in the same tone, mocking her, but my heart sinks because of how mean I sound. "If he's going to help you, don't underrate yourself."

"What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour," she snaps angrily. "Tell him that. That's not nothing."

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people," I say sarcastically. "It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't."

"He can wrestle. He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother," she turns to Haymitch for his opinion.

I don't give Haymitch a chance to answer. "What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I say.

"There's always hand to hand combat." She shoots back with renewed energy. "All you need is to come up with a knife and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" Her voice is rising as fury builds up.

"But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" I yell. I'm just so upset at what my mother said. I calm down. I can't stay mad at Katniss.

"Oh, she meant you," Katniss says.

"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," I say, sadly.

Katniss stops for a minute, deep in thought. She looks straight into my eyes, sees the pain, and says, "But only because someone helped me."

I glance at the roll I'm holding, thinking back to the day that I helped Katniss, gave her hope. I shrug and say, "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you," she scoffs.

I'm surprised by this. I'm not particularly handsome, but Katniss is really something. She knows how to hunt, how to survive. She's already famous for volunteering for Prim. The audience will think she's strong. They saw the pictures the cameras took at the train station: she didn't cry, I did.

I turn to Haymitch and roll my eyes to keep up the "annoyed" role. "She has no idea. The effect she can have." I don't want to be annoyed at Katniss. I run my fingernail along a wood grain in the table. I don't look at Katniss or I'm afraid anger will rise, which would not be good.

"Well, then. Well, well, well," he says, making sure we stop fighting. "Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private sessions with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, steer clear of archery. Are you any good with trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares," she mutters.

"That may be significant in terms of food," Haymitch says. He's happy that he gets to mentor two kids that actually stand a chance of making to at least the final eight. He turns to me and says, "And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the oter tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

We nod, happy Haymitch settled our argument.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute," Haymitch says. It would be suspicious to Katniss if I didn't protest, so I find myself objecting along with her. Haymitch slams his hand on the table in anger. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

Katniss storms back to her room, slamming the door loudly. Sigh. Does she hate me that much?

I walk slowly back to my room. I wonder why Haymitch wants us to appear to be friends, though. I'm sure she'd be happy to kill me off the first chance she got, but obviously not me. What is he planning? I lie in my bed amidst the swirl of confusion in my thoughts.

I look at the clock next to my bed. It's 9:57. I better head to the elevator to go to training. I'm a little nervous to see the other tributes. After all, they are out to kill me.

I walk out of the room and wait by the elevator for Effie and Katniss. The elevator doors open, and there's Effie. Katniss appears behind me and walks over to us.

The training rooms are on the bottom floor, underground. The ride is short, though, with the fast elevator. The doors open and the view before me is pretty amazing. The gymnasium is huge, with all different stations. I spot weapons, obstacle courses, dummies for stabbing, shooting, or spearing. The other tributes are already here early. They are in a circle, tense and stiff, trying not to acknowledge the presence of the other tributes around them. A man pins a cloth square with the number 12 on it and I notice that everyone else has their district number pinned on them too.

We join the circle and a woman named Atala explains the training schedules and different stations. We can go to any stations we want. We are to follow our mentor's instructions on where to go. There are stations to teach us how to survive and station that teach us how to fight. We can't fight with any of the other tributes, of course, but there are assistants around to help us with hand to hand combat.

I listen carefully as Atala describes each station. There's knot-tying, fire starting, climbing ropes, edible plants tests, camouflage, snares and trapping, and making shelter for survival stations. The fighting stations include spear throwing, weightlifting, archery, knives, maces, axes, clubs, and sword fighting. These are for hand to hand combat.

Atala releases us and I don't know where to start. I nudge Katniss because she's preoccupied with watching the Careers head toward the deadly weapons, like the maces and spears. The know how to use them and aren't afraid to show us, in attempt to intomidate the competition. Katniss jumps, but quickly recovers when she sees it's me. "Where would you like to start?" I ask.

She looks around, seeing the other tributes that don't seem to be in the survival stations. They're all learning how to fight. "Suppose we tie some knots," Katniss says. It's probably a good station to start.

"Right you are," I say. We walk over to the station. There's no other tributes, so the instructor is happy to see us. We work on a trap that will leave another human dangling helplessly by the leg from a tree. We don't leave until we're professionals at this trap.

Next, we walk on over to the camouflage station, where I mix mud, clay, and berry juices. It's really enjoyable, since I love painting. I use various leaves and different shaded vines to cover myself. The instructor at this station likes my work and praises me. He says I'm the best student he's had for years. At home, we can't afford paints or canvases, so I decorate the cakes for the bakery to sell.

"I do the cakes," I say to Katniss.

"The cakes?" she asks. "What cakes?" I follow her gaze. She's watching the boy tribute from District Two, spear a dummy's heart from more than ten feet away.

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," I say.

Recognization dawns and she's remembering the cakes she probably sees on display. She looks at my arm a little more closely. I have painted the alternating light and dark of sunlight shining through leaves if you're on the ground, in the woods. Her mind is still on the cakes a little when she says, "It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death."

"Don't be so superior," I say, jokingly. "Say it's a gigantic cake-"

"Say we move on," Katniss says, interrupting me.

Life's been hard for Katniss. I don't think she can take a joke like most people can. Her life has taught her to be more serious, grow up, be more responsible. I can't help feeling a little bad for her, even though she snapped at me.

For the next three days, Katniss and I try to stay unnoticed. We walk quietly from one station to another, and not once do we do archery or weightlifting. I learn a lot of new survival skills like starting fires and making shelter, but I also learn to throw knives and other fighting techniques. Katniss is an expert in identifying which are the edible plants and which are the poisonous ones, while I'm great at hand to hand combat.

Gamemakers are here from the first day til the private training sessions. There are special elevated stands for them to sit. They observe us carefully, take notes, but most of the time just eat the feast of food set specially for them, not bothering to watch us. Many times, though, I look up and their eyes meet mine. They're watching Twelve a lot. The Gamemakers talk to the trainers while we eat, gathered in a tight circle.

For dinner and breakfast, we have a little privacy, eating on our own floor, 12. For lunch, though, all of us tributes have to eat. With each other. Together. In the same room. It's not in the gynasium, of course, but in a dining room close to it.

Luckily, there are enough tables for each tribute to each alone. The Careers are all crowded around one table, loud as usual. Everyone else is below their notice. Everyone else sits alone, except for Katniss and me. Food carts are scattered around the room. It's basically a self serve kind of lunch.

Katniss and I don't talk a lot at the lunches. We've never had a real, civil conversation We can't bear to talk about our current situation or of our home. We're so different. I grew up in the rich part of our district and she grew up in the poor part. It's hard for us to relate to each other. We are stuck for a while. Also, I think we're a little more apart because she was so mad at Haymitch's suggestion to act as friends and slammed the door purposely so I could hear it. However, I agreed to listen to Haymitch's rules. On the first day, I empty the breadbasket that I took from one of the carts.

"Look at the bread carefully. They have different types of bread from the different districts. The bread from 1 is this little silvery bread. There are edible jewels sprinkled on top. We can't afford them in our bakery. This greenish bread with seaweed on top is from 4. The dark brown bread with stripes and bits of green is for District 7. Since their specialty is lumber, I guess the colors represent the trees. The crescent shaped one sprinkled with seeds is for 11," I explain. "And there you have it." I put the brea back in the basket.

Katniss nods and says, "You certainly know a lot."

"Only about bread," I say. I bet she knows much more. She's had a more up-close experience with hunting, gathering, and all that important stuff. Because Haymitch keeps wanting us to act as friends, I say, "Okay, now laugh as if I've said something funny."

We laugh and the tributes around the room stare at us. It doesn't matter. We don't care.

"All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk," I say.

"Did I ever tell you the time I was chased by a bear?" Katniss asks.

Chased by a bear? That sounds a little dangerous, but Katniss seems like an adventurous girl that would have the wits to just survive the attack. "No, but it sounds fascinating," I reply.

Katniss tells me the story. She had challenged a black bear because of a beehive. I ask questions and laugh, trying to lighten the mood and really try to sound interested.

In spear practice on Day 2, as I bend down to pick up a spear that I dropped, I see something peculiar. One of the other tributes is watching us. She's from District 11. Her intelligent, dark, huge eyes are staring at me as I glance over at her. Her skin is a light brown, her hair curly and black. She appears to be standing on tip-toes with her arms at her sides and slightly outward. It reminds me of a bird.

"I think we have a shadow," I say to Katniss as she throws her spear. Katniss is not too bad with a spear, if the distance isn't too far.

She looks over at the District 11 tribute.

I throw my spear and say, "I think her name's Rue." My spear skewers the dummy in its heart. I can throw pretty far and still hit my mark. The wound might not be fatal though.

"What can we do about it?" Katniss asks, a little meanly for talking about a girl that size.

"Nothing to do. Just making conversation," I reply.

Katniss and I watch Rue a little more. She's constantly watching us, mostly Katniss, and joining us in some station. I observe that she's very good at recognizing which plants are going to keep you alive and which ones will kill you within a minute of swallowing. She climbs very quickly, knowing where to place her hands. She can make a slingshot and hit a target every time. She doesn't use any other weapons, so she must be weak at hand to hand combat.

Instead of making small talk during dinner, Haymitch and Effie demand to know every detail of training. We tell them every Gamemaker who watched us, which tributes sat with which at lunch, what we observed about the other tributes, and what we did in training and what we were careful not to do. They yell at what we do wrong, tell us what else we should be doing in training, and what we should steer clear of. I'm patient, knowing they're just trying to give us an advantage and a chance to live. However, Katniss gets annoyed and stops listening.

Because Haymitch is so different now, being all strict and pressuring us, on the second night after dinner, I mumble, "Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink."

Katniss gives a laugh, but accidentally snorts as well. I fight the urge to laugh at the sound, just as Katniss says, "Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around."

And to think that we actually started to bond a little over the past two days. "All right, Katniss," I say, tired that she can't even consider me a friend. I'm not going to kill her, shouldn't she realize that by now? However, from then on, we don't talk unless there are people around.

Training Day 3 is special. We are called out of lunch and are lead to a session just for the Gamemakers to watch us. The Gamemakers will give us a number one through twelve so the audience knows who to sponsor. Normally, the higher scoring tributes get more sponsors because they are more likely to win. One is the lowest score. Twelve is the highest. No one has gotten one or twelve before, though, but there's always a first.

One by one, the tributes leave. Boys first and girls next, in district order, so I will go second to last and Katniss will be the last tribute to go.

Katniss and I don't even bother to talk. We're too nervous. Even our appetite is gone and we eat next to nothing.

"Peeta Mellark!" a woman calls out.

As I stand, Katniss says, "Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw weights."

Not knowing what advice I can give, I say, "Thanks, I will. You...shoot straight." She nods.

I walk to the gymnasium's doorway. The doors are wide open. I walk in and look at the variety of weapons and other tools. I look over at the Gamemakers, waiting for permission to start. The Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, nods at me. A few of the others nod too, but the rest of them aren't paying attention. Well, I have to start don't I?

I pick up a spear and throw it, skewering a dummy in the heart from fifteen feet away. I throw a few knives into a sandbag and the sand slowly seeps out. These two acts only take about five minutes. Then, I decide to work on my real strong point for the rest of the time: strength. I pick up two ten pound weights to warm up. I throw them and they hit the ceiling. They land on the floor with a loud thud.

Suddenly, a few Gamemakers burst into song. They're drunk. Very drunk. They've been here for twenty-two different performances. They don't care anymore. The somg they sing sounds like a drinking song. However, the show must go on, and give them a show, I must.

I pick up one seventy-five pound weight, spin around and chuck them at a target meant for archery. The weight hits the bullseye and knocks the target over. I pick up one more weight that is one hundred pounds and chuck it at the wall. They make contact with it and cracks appear. I try a real challenge: a hundred and fifty pound weight. I almost drop them on my feet, but manage to grip it and throw it a fair ten feet.

About four Gamemakers are clapping, the rest still singing their drinking song. Seneca Crane smiles at me and says, "Good job, Peeta Mellark. You may go."

I walk out of the room, not in a bad mood, but not in a good one. Training scores aren't really used to determined who will win the Games, but can hurt or help a tribute in terms of sponsorship. Usually, the Careers get high scores, between the eight to ten range. I hope I manage at least a seven. It's a little in the middle, but at least some sponsors will come to my aid. Anger wouldn't be the word I would use to describe how I feel now. I don't really have an adjective to describe how I feel, maybe a deep sadness, like I don't matter. I had done my best, even though they weren't impressed. However, it isn't likely that I'll get very far into the arena anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Hello all! As usual, I bring good news! Or maybe not "as usual"... Anyways, I have not one, but TWO chapters for you! One on this fanfic and one on my other one. If you haven't read my other fanfic yet, I suggest you do!**

**I was in CT for the weekend. I apologize, again, for taking sooooo long with the chapter! Don't forget, when school starts for me, September 4th, that I'll only probably be able to post one chapter of one of my fanfics a week. :( I'll try my best because of all you fans out there, though!**

**Thank you, all that reviewed, followed, or favorited this fanfic and my other one! I appreciate it, I really do!**

**OMG Bruno Gunn (who will play Brutus in Catching Fire) keeps replying/favoriting my tweets! Eep! Does anyone know the author Rebecca Hamilton? If you do, PM me and tell me about her/her books.**

**Enough of that! Here's the new chapter that you've all been waiting for!**

I walk back into the elevator and I lightly touch the button marked 12. I zoom up to the penthouse and sit on the sofa in the sitting room for a while.

Haymitch and Effie come out of the dining room, asking how I did and I say, "Fine." They ask for more details and I say, "Later. I'll tell you at dinner. Only when Katniss is here."

They leave me alone for a while, sitting on the couch opposite mine. Then, I hear the elevator bell go off, signaling Katniss' arrival. Effie and Haymitch call her and receive no reply. I catch a glimpse of Katniss, striding past the sitting room and scrambling to open the door to her room. She wrenches it open and runs inside. You can hear the lock click.

Haymitch and Effie get up and knock on her door. I lurch forward instinctively, but you can hear her yelling, even from where I'm sitting, so I don't think it's a good idea to bother her. I ease back into the sofa. Haymitch and Effie don't understand. When someone's upset, you let them cry their heart out until they're ready to make an appearance. You have to be patient. However, even I lurched forward to go ask her what happened in her private session. I can't help feeling a little guilty, even if my move was an instinctive one. Haymitch and Effie keep knocking until Katniss starts yelling at them again. They walk away, Haymitch looking annoyed and Effie looking worried.

I sit on the sofa until Effie tells me it's time for dinner. Then, she cautiously approaches Katniss' door, taps it softly, and asks her to come to join us for dinner. I walk to the dining room where Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch sit around the table, making small talk. Effie joins the table from behind me.

"Hello," I say tentatively and sit down.

"Hi, Peeta. I heard from Haymitch that you won't tell us how your training session was until Katniss arrives, but how are you feeling?" Portia asks softly.

"I'm all right. Seriously, I am. I didn't do anything drastic, they were just... drunk, that's all," I say. "You don't have to worry so much. I think I got over a six at least. Six is mediocre. We'll see how I did later." I only say this to relieve their worrying. In truth, I probably got a three.

The others at the table relax. Then, Katniss appears and everyone's on edge again. I decide to focus on the meal.

The fish soup that they serve is delicious. It's extremely salty, but just right for me. The fish inside look like they're swimming, but they're dead of course. Effie says that they were in some fishtank before they were killed. I wonder if this will be my fate: I'll try so hard to survive in an arena much like a fishtank, trapped, far away from my home, and murdered brutally.

The adults talk about the weather, waiting until someone mentions the training session. Katniss' eyes meet mine and I raise my eyebrows questioningly as if to ask what happened. She replies with a small shake of her head.

Finally, Haymitch is the one to break the tension. He says, "Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?"

Wanting to make Katniss feel better, I decide to talk first. "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go." I refrain from saying that I threw the spear and knives. They weren't important and it didn't take long.

"And you, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks Katniss.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," Katniss says, unable to find a way to escape the question.

Everyone stops eating. Even I can't mask the surprise. It's clearly etched across my face. "You what?" Effie asks, horror creeping into her voice.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction," Katniss explains. "It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just...I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!"

"And what did they say?" Cinna asks in his calming voice, but carefully.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," Katniss says.

"Without being dismissed?" This is Effie's worst nightmare, or so her voice seems to be telling.

"I dismissed myself," she says. Well, that was rather brave, showing up the Gamemakers and all that.

"Well, that's that," Haymitch says, reaching down to butter a roll.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" Katniss asked, worried.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," Haymitch replies, more interested in his roll than her.

"What about my family?" she asks, worried. "Will they punish them?"

"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did But they can't since it's secret, so it'd be a waste of effort," Haymitch explains. "More likely they'll make you life hell in the arena."'

To lighten the mood, I say, "Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyways."

"Very true," Haymitch replies. Katniss gives a feeble smile, as if realizing what she did was not so bad after all. Haymitch selects a pork chop and picks it up with his fingers, dunking it in his wine. I stifle a laugh while Effie frowns. He tears off a huge hunk of meat and laughs. I swear he's doing it to upset Effie. Effie and her manners. "What were their faces like?"

"Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them," Katniss says, trying to remember any specific deail. "One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."

Haymich guffaws loudly and all of us join him in laughter. Effie is showing signs of a smile, even if she isn't laughing. "Well, it serves them right," Effie manages to say between our laughing. "It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you." As if she said something no one would ever say, her eyes glance around nervously. Well, she is Capitol raised and they're used to insulting District Twelve, so I don't get angry over her for what seems like a harmful comment. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think."

"I'll get a very bad score," says Katniss, worry almost gone.

"Scores only matter if they're very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones," Portia reassures her. "For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy."

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I say to lighten the mood. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards. One almost landed on my foot."

Katniss smiles and starts to eat a little more. Relief fills the air, at least for her. I'm still nervous about my training score.

Later, we're sitting on a couch in the living room, waiting to get our scores. The television is on and we're watching Claudius Templesmith, the announcer for the Games, is talking about how many points he thinks the tributes will score based on our looks. Finally, they're announcing our scores. They show a picture of each tribute and show the training score below.

For the past few days of training, I didn't really pay attention to the tributes. However, now I look more carefully at each tribute's picture, trying to match faces with how they did in training, especially the Careers. The Careers earn their typical scores, eight to ten. The girl and boy from Two both get a ten. They're quite a pair. The boy's name is Cato and he can throw a spear and still kill a tribute from more than fifteen feet away. He can also use a sword skillfully. It's impressive, so clearly he's a dangerous one. He's tall, towering above the smaller tributes like Rue. His muscles could probably easily break a leg or an arm, possibly a neck.

Cato's district partner, Clove, is a dangerous tribute, just like him. She can throw a knife with more skill than anyone I've seen in the Games. She never misses. Never. She aims to give fatal wounds. She likes the heart and the head the best.

The girl from Five gets a five. I saw her in training, where she knew all the edible and poisonous plants. She's a fast runner too. Her red hair is a key identifying feature, as well as her face reminding me of a fox. Rue from Eleven, gets a seven, and even Katniss is taken aback. Surely, this small girl can't handle any huge weapons, maybe a knife. What has she done that's so impressive? I know she can tell which plants are edible.

Her district partner, a huge boy named Thresh, is strong and powerful, like Cato. Rarely does a district like Eleven produce a big tribute like Thresh. He has brown skin and golden eyes. He knows how to use a sword, how to feed himself. He never sat with the Careers at lunch, so I can only guess he's going to be independent.

Our district is always last and my anxiety has been building up since we watched the District One scores. Suddenly, they're flashing my score. Eight. I can't help feeling happy with my achievement. Then, I go back to being nervous, but not for me, for Katniss. They're flashing her score, a brilliant eleven! It's hard for anyone to score that high. It's only happened once before, for Finnick Odair, the tribute from Four in the 65th Hunger Games.

Effie squeals and everyone's celebrating. Katniss is just sitting there in shock, saying, "There must be a mistake. How...how could that happen?"

Haymitch replies with glee, "Guess they liked your temper. They've got a show to put on. They need players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," Cinna says, happily. He gives Katniss a hug, saying, "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

"More flames?" Katniss asks, eager to know more.

"Of a sort," Cinna replies, being vague.

I congratulate Katniss on her success, happy enough with my eight. Katniss flees to her room, as if wondering what will happen if we will be left for last, just the two of us. I think the thought terrifies her.

I wonder if the Careers are surprised with our wonderful scores. With a score of eight, I could even possibly have been trained beforehand, or at least that's what a person who didn't know me would think. I head back to my room and lie in my bed, just thinking of what these scores could mean for all twenty-four of us tributes.

A few hours later, I must have dozed off. I wake up and look around. Again, I realize I'm not alone. At least this time, I wasn't screaming "KATNISS!" when I woke up.

"You have to stop sneaking into my room like this, Haymitch!" I shout.

"Shh! I don't want the others waking up! A mentor for District Two came to see me just a few minutes ago. He says Cato and Clove want you to team up with them, impressed by your training score. He's waiting for an answer in the sitting room," Haymitch says quietly.

"They want me?!" I ask, disgusted. As far as District Twelve alliances go, we rarely team up with anyone. And if we do, it's definitely not with Careers. "No way!"

"Think hard about refusing," Haymitch growls. "Katniss just outshone them with her training score. They'll be hunting her down. Plus, they think you'll know her best, which you do. You can mislead the pack, protect her. I know you want her to win the Games. However, you can only do that by surviving yourself, and making sure she's not found."

Realization crosses my mind. I see what Haymitch is saying. He's won the Games once, not because he's strong or had many sponsors. He's the type of person that would outsmart everyone, quick thinking and quick reflexes. They've never showed his Games on television, but he has to definitely have won this way. He's smarter than everyone thinks.

"Alright," I say. "I'll join the Careers."

"Excellent! The tributes from One and Four are also in on the alliance, by the way." Haymitch shouts, then covers his mouth due to the noise. He exits the room, leaving me to think, but today was too full of worries. I fall asleep instead.

The clock strikes eight and Haymitch is back in my room. Tomorrow will be our interviews, televised to the whole country of Panem. Today is preparation day for the interviews.

"It's time for breakfast," Haymitch tells me. "By the way, don't tell Katniss that you're joining the Careers. If you tell her, she won't be as likely to attack them, if ambushed."

"Okay, Haymitch. One last thing, I'd like to be coached separately. For the interviews, I have something I want to do that will help her get sponsors, as well as myself. It plays on surprise though," I say.

Haymitch chuckles. "She won't be happy about being trained separately and take it badly, but I think it's for the best, too."

He exits the room and I take a quick shower. Pressing random buttons, I end up getting bubbles squirted in my face, blinding me, raspberry body wash all over my legs, and freezing water poured over my head. I stand shivering until I manage to locate the button for warm water. As I manage to wash everything off with the warm water, the scent of rose fills the air. I step out of the shower and quickly dry up. I don't bother combing through my hair and place my hand on a box that easily dries my hair and puts my hair back to normal.

I walk out of the bathroom and change my clothes to a light orange shirt and white pants. I notice that I still smell like roses. I walk down to breakfast, where Haymitch immediately calls Effie and me over. I grab a muffin and eat it while listening to Haymitch.

"Peeta is going to be coached separately for the interviews, Effie," Haymitch tells her.

Effie nods and says, "Katniss needs more help on presentation, so I'll work with her first."

Just then, Katniss appears for breakfast. She finds it strange that we're all huddled ad she's excluded, but shrugs it off and gets her breakfast of stew with lamb and dried plums swimming inside. I heard it tastes delicious with rice, so I'm not surprised when Katniss pours it over her rice.

Haymitch, Effie, and I haven't said anything to her and she eats halfway through her rice with the stew and gulps down her orange juice before asking, "So what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?"

"That's right," Haymitch replies, hesitant.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time," she says, starting to realize there's something wrong.

"Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach," Haymitch says carefully.

"What's that?" Katniss asks, confused and trying to remember Haymitch's last suggestions.

Haymitch thinks carefully before answering, hesitating. He shrugs as if deciding to say it straight out. "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Again, please review/favorite/follow this chapter/story/author! Lastly, if I wrote a book would you read it? Please PM me or put your answer in the reviews for this chapter for me!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Shoutout to woona: I started high school. I'm sorry. I'm trying hard, promise!**

**Shoutout to butter: WELL, I changed the title back :)**

**Shoutout to Jill Thompson: Thanks for your suggestion! I am a little tired of the 74th Hunger Games though. We'll see. **

**DON'T FORGET TO READ MY OTHER FANFIC, TIDE IN NETS! IF YOU ENJOY THIS, YOU'LL PROBABLY ENJOY THAT TOO, EVEN IF YOU HATE HATE HATE FINNICK!**

**Without further ado, I give you, Chapter 9.**

I can practically hear the thoughts running through Katniss' head. She's wondering if everything I've ever done for her has meant anything. Giving her the bread on that rainy day so long ago, listening to her story on the roof, giving her my jacket- was that all to earn her trust? This is probably what she's thinking. Then her face changes to thinking she shouldn't have trusted me, we should not be friends, we should stop pretending. I think about how I'd feel if I was her. I would hate me too.

"Good," she finally replies. "So what's the schedule?"

"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four hours with me for content. You start with Effie, Katniss," Haymitch informs her. Haymitch tells Katniss to follow Effie and Haymitch leads me to the sitting room.

"I was thinking about this for a while and I want to make my love confession at the end," I blurt out, just as I sit down on the couch, while Haymitch stands.

Haymitch thinks about it for a minute, then is flat out laughing. "Genius! You're a genius! They're definitely going to ask you if you have a girlfriend at home. Tell me the rest of your ideas and I'll tell you how I want you to answer Caesar's question." Caesar Flickerman will be the person that will be asking questions for our interviews. He's been the host for a long time, at least forty years.

They've never had a real couple in the Games before. This is perfect.

"I just want to make sure she gets more sponsors than me. What can I say? I mean I know some guys like her, at least they talk about her a lot at school. It's mostly my friends. " I tell him.

"You can say how she has a lot of admirers. Now, I want you to follow along the lines of what I'm going to tell you. I want you to say, 'A lot of guys like her. There's a girl I've liked since forever. I don't think she even knew who I was until the reaping.' Caesar, of course, will tell you to win the Games to get back to her. You're to respond truthfully, saying, 'Winning's not going to help.' He'll ask why not, and I know you'll be good at this because for you it's real, but I want you to blush and stammer. You're to say, 'Because she came here with me.' The part about a lot of other boys liking her will get her sponsors by making her desirable." Haymitch tells me.

"Okay, what do I do before he asks if I have a girlfriend?" I ask.

"Just be humorous. Make jokes. You have the self-deprecating humor that will boost the audience's love for you. Just make the audience like you. From what I've seen on the train so far, they already do, waving at you like that." Haymitch tells me. "Now, let's pretend I'm Caesar and we can practice and prepare for the big finale."

Haymitch asks me all sorts of questions, including my strengths. I tell him I'm very strong and can use a variety of weapons. I tell him, jokingly as if he was Caesar, to watch out, because one day, he could find himself at a bad end of a sword. Haymitch can't help guffawing at this part. Haymitch's session has gone well.

After a delicious lunch I barely remember, I'm sitting in on my bed as Effie gives me a lecture on manners and how to sit, even though she says I'm sitting perfectly. I don't think Katniss' session with Effie went well. She tells me to be polite when I sit, with good posture, unlike some tributes who might try to appear relaxed, or just at home at the Capitol. Before long, I'm telling her how my session with Haymitch went instead of her telling me information.

When I head down to dinner, I notice that Katniss isn't there. Haymitch snaps at me to start without her. We finish the whole meal without her showing up once. I start to worry by the time we start soup, which was the first thing we were served. Throughout the meal, I can hear shattering coming from upstairs. The fifty times Effie tries to go up and see what's happening, Haymitch yells at her to let it be.

When I finally excuse myself to head up to my room, I hesitate outside Katniss' door, wondering if I should go in. I hear a shattering sound somewhere close to the door, and decide to continue down the hallway. Tomorrow, my prep team will get me ready for the interviews. I hope Katniss does well. However, my love confession, I'm sure, will give her just the boost she needs, even if she's silent her whole interview, which is highly unlikely.

When I open my eyes, Caspia, Glidera, and Delpher, my prep team, are staring at me. I cringe because their colors are just too colorful to adjust to this early in the morning. Caspia happens to be wearing a dress with every color I can think of. I imagine having a paint box at home, after I win the Games, and inventing beautiful, new colors. Caspia's dress actually makes me smile. Then, I remember I have to die so Katniss can win the Games. I hope my ultimate sacrifice will be enough for her.

My prep team applies a light makeup- I think all the boy tributes have to wear some makeup. My hair is brushed up and gelled. Not long after, Portia comes in with a nice, black suit. The pockets and collar is lined with red and there are flame accents. When I put it on, it looks wonderful. I think this'll help clear up a little nervousness that's been creeping up on me. The crowd is no problem, speaking in front of the crowd isn't what makes me nervous. It's the confession. The blushing. Haymitch and I decided not to tell Katniss about the confession. Her reaction is key to this confession.

After the long preparations, we meet up with Katniss and her team. Katniss is so breathtaking, so stunning, which are both understatements. She's in a dress that's made entirely of gems. Every time she moves, I swear, flames are swallowing her, surrounding her. There are no words to describe her beauty, her radiance. We step out of the elevator and hurry to line up with the other tributes. All of us are going to be sitting in basically a big arc, waiting for our turn to go up on stage. Because I'm the boy tribute from 12, I'm last. Might as well find something to think about while I half-listen to how mysterious, clever, and winning the other tributes are. I keep my ear trained on any information I didn't pick up in training.

"Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it," Haymitch says before we walk onto the stage and show off. Confusion is briefly splayed across Katniss' face, but disappears as we walk to our seats. I look at the crowd gathered at City Circle. There's an elevated bunch of seats which are for the important guests and the stylists in the front row. The Gamemakers get their honorary balcony on a building to the right. There are cameras on all the other balconies within view, trying to at least get a glimpse at our interviews, if not all the interviews.

Caesar Flickerman bounds onto the stage and applause is instantaneous. He still has the same face as forty years or so, ago. He has obviously went through some plastic surgery, an option they have here at the Capitol to appear younger or better-looking. His hair is in the same style as usual, this time dyed blue. With all the colors here in the Capitol, Caesar has a different color for every year's Hunger Games. This year, his hair is a light, powdered blue, with matching eyelids and lipstick. He tells a few jokes- always the funny one, but then introduces Glimmer, the girl from District One. Her sexy, gold gown is revealing, her blond hair all wavy, green eyes glinting. She's obviously running up the angle for sexy.

The other interviews zip by, but I take note of Cato, District 2's boy, who says he can brutally murder with almost anything. He'll be in the Career pack with me, no doubt the leader. I wonder when he's going to plan to kill me. The girl from 5 has nice red hair and plays up the angle as sly and sneaky. Before I even know it, I've missed Katniss' interview! My mind's been too packed with other things to think about, the enemies. I almost beat myself up with anger. Anger at myself for not watching her sure-to-be-perfect interview. At least in my opinion. I suppose I could watch the re-runs later.

Katniss is currently twirling in her jeweled dress, flames dancing around her. It is absolutely magnificent, magical. She is a human no longer, but a beautiful creature I've never seen before.

Caesar asks her about her training session. She simply says, "Um... all I can say, is I think it was a first." I laugh, knowing exactly what she did, shot the arrow at the Gamemakers. Caesar begs for details, but the private sessions are, well, private.

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping. And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?" Caesar asks. He's calmer now, more serious.

He's got her at her weak point. Katniss' family and Gale, are the only things that matter in her life. At least, that's what I'm aware of.

"Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything," Katniss responds simply.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asks politely.

"I swore I would," Katniss says, tense.

"I bet you did," Caesar says. Then, the buzzer goes up and it's time for me to head up.

I sigh and climb the steps. I settle down in the chair, which is warm from the lights and the other tributes' before me.

We start off with a few jokes, like when Caesar asks what I think of the other tributes, I respond, "Well I think of the other tributes like bread, quite simply." I go on, explaining how Glimmer is like the luxurious bread from her district, knowing how glamorous her life must have been. "Although not quite as glamorous as the Capitol," I say. The crowd laughs and I go on with Cato, the girl from 5, Thresh (from 11), and even little Rue.

Caesar asks me how I like the Capitol so far.

"Well, it's, uh, different from my district. Maybe it's the neatness? The cleanness of the water?" The audience laughs. "I think it's the showers. This morning, I pressed some buttons and at the end suddenly ended up smelling like roses! Tell me," I say, looking at Caesar. "Do I still smell like roses?"

The crowd is roaring in laughter. Caesar leans over to sniff me and me, him. The audience laughs even louder. What strange people live in the Capitol? At home, everyone would roll their eyes at me. Now, a few citizens of Twelve might be laughing politely. But it's only because I'm their tribute.

"So, so, so, Peeta," Caesar says, trying to continue the interview. "Funny boy like you, do you have someone you love at home, someone you want to be with forever, a girlfriend?"

I glance at the audience quickly, or more specifically at Katniss. The moment of truth has arrived. Time to confess my undying love for Katniss in front of the whole country of Panem. The crowd is watching me, seeing my hesitation. I slowly shake my head no. No one believes me.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what''s her name?" Caesar pushes.

The audience is hooked, not wanting to miss a thing. I take a deep breath and say, "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping," I say, sadly.

Some people in the Capitol audience give sounds of sympathy, a quiet "Awwww..."

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asks, looking sympathetic himself.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," I respond, happy that this will help Katniss earn sponsors. There's nothing better than a girl tribute that boys desired at home and that her fellow tribute has fallen for her.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar says.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning," I try to quickly improvise. "won't help my case."

"Why ever not?" Casesar asks, confused and appalled. The audience is too.

I blush, only something I'd do if I was admitting a real truth, "Because... because... she came here with me," I stutter.

I feel the words spreading through the Capitol, the districts, home. The whole nation of Panem. What I did was so unique, there's no way to explain it. The girl on fire, Katniss Everdeen, has burned a memory, a love so strong, in my heart.

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm so so so so sorry for the long wait! Your waiting should have been worth it.. I think... so REVIEW! READ TIDE IN NETS, MY OTHER FANFIC, IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY! IF YOU LIKE THIS FANFFIC, YOU WILL ALMOST DEFINITELY LOVE THAT ONE TOO, EVEN IF YOU HATE FINNICK WITH A BURNING PASSION!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the longer delay from the update.**

I really try to put my feelings into a facial expression- my eyes are down, and I give a sad expression, but a blush shows my embarrassment. Now that that's all out on the table and the whole world knows my secret, I feel like I can relax a little. My eyes flit over to Katniss and see that she's blushing as well. It's unmistakable and she purses her lips, staring at the floor. This is the perfect reaction to the confession. It makes it seem like Katniss is helplessly in love with me as well.

"Oh, that's one piece of bad luck," Caesar says sadly, but clearly. He sounds sympathetic and a little pained himself. The crowd is beyond themselves, all broken up. Some of the members of the audience are crying or giving painful cries, as if they're the ones in a bad situation. Yes, I have given Katniss and myself, by far, the most attention of all the interviews. My explanation that Katniss has a lot of lovers at home, my confession, her reaction- just golden.

"It's not good," I say, giving a sad smile.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?" Caesar asks, in the same sypathetic, pained tone.

I shake my head, saying, "Not until now."

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar shouts. I look over at Katniss and she gives me a shocked, panicked look. The crowd is screaming, wanting Katniss to reply. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent," Caesar continues as the cheering dies down. "Well best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The crowd's cheering is so loud they can probably hear it all the way in District 12. Then again, it's being played live there now. I return to my chair after saying "Thank you" to all of Panem for listening. My voice, though, accidentally gets caught up in my throat, and it comes out choked.

The anthem is blaring and all of us tributes stand up. I look quickly at screens giving overhead views of the tributes, but they're really only focused on the tributes between Katniss and me, showing our separation. When we head back to the elevators, I can't find Katniss and end up with Cato and Clove in mine. They're glaring at me, knowing I totally won the crowd's favor over them. However, Clove does compliment my performance and I tell her I like her dress. She answers with another death glare and I smile at her so innocently and sweetly, she actually takes it as a compliment. She gives me a small smile, but it looks more like a smirk. The boy from District 10, though, gets on her bad side and she yells about how she's going to kill him in the arena. Then, the elevator shoots up and Cato is holding her back.

Arriving on their floor, Cato says, "C'mon, Clove. Let's go. See you in the arena, Lover Boy. I hope you'll be more valuable than this useless... tribute."

The tributes are all silent as we go up each floor. 3, 5, 7, 8, and finally, 12. I get a quick glimpse of the floors. A crystal chandelier here, a brown quiltlike rug there, wire decoration, and the familiar dining table, where Haymitch, Effie, and the others make plans. No one appears to be on our floor, so I step into the room.

Suddenly, a great force slams into me- Katniss' hands on my chest. I lose balance and crash into some urn. The urn shatters and I tumble down. Oh, gravity. My hands instinctively going down to keep the rest of my body safe, and land in the broken shards. They bleed immediately from the sharp edges. The pain in my hands can't compare to the sting in my heart, for Katniss hating me for this one little thing, this advantage she hasn't realized.

"What was that for?!" I ask, gaping up at her, even though I know the reason. I want to make sure I came up with the right conclusion.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" She shouts angrily.

Effie, Portia, Cinna, and Haymitch arrive and immediately take in the scene.

Sucking her breath in horror, Effie asks hysterically, "What's going on? Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me," I scoff, standing up as my anger rises.

"Shoved him?" Haymitch asks. We're already fighting and the only time we should be, is mainly in the arena, which is tomorrow.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?! Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she shouts at Haymitch. At least the anger isn't directed at me for now.

"It was my idea," I say, calming down. I imagine myself in her shoes and understand her anger. Volunteering for her sister, having some random boy say he loves her in front of the entire country. If not sympathy, then I don't know what I feel. Not pity, but maybe a silent understanding. I start pulling the pieces of the urn out if my hands. This is not going to be good for the arena tomorrow. I continue, "Haymitch just helped me with it."

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" She shouts, even more upset. Oh yeah, I forgot. Along with the volunteering and romance act, there's a sense of no outside help for her. But I think that's from experience, from not needing anyone and having no one help her.

"You are a fool!" Haymitch answers with the same angry tone he adopted from Katniss, but an added bit of disgust. Well, what can you expect from Haymitch? "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own!"

Although it's mean, Haymitch is right. I may not be able to shoot an arrow, or be good with weapons, but I suppose I do know how to convince people, perhaps move a whole tide of a crowd. Katniss seems to be the action girl, the one who's been hunting for all her life.

"He made me look weak!" Katniss shouts, trying to defend her opinion with a last scrap of attack.

"He made you look desirable!" Haymitch snarls. "And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!"

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" She protests, annoyed.

"Who cares?" Haymitch shouts and he grabs her shoulder. She gets pinned to the wall. "It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get more sponsors?"

Haymitch seems to have convinced her, as she hesitatates, then shoves his hands off her. She turns around, shaking her hear and seems like she's trying to understand it and attempting to clear her head.

"He's right, Katniss," Cinna says, calmingly and smoothly. He puts his arm around her in a comforting way.

"I should have been told, so I didn't look stupid," she says halfheartedly, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"No, you're reaction was perfect. If you had known, it wouldn't have been as real," Portia exclaims, covering the empty silence.

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say, acting like I'm mad at her, when really, I could never have been so angry at her. I pull a piece of the urn out of my hand, adding to the anger effect.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she replies quietly, blushing, and I know she's thinking of Gale. Handsome, strong, so desperately sought after by girls his age, but younger and older too. Gale. I can't even compare to him and I'm jealous.

"Whatever," I say tiredly. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, you didn't say you loved me, so what does it matter?"

The words sink in and understanding, but a pinch of apology and hurt, crosses her face. The expression she wears is one of sadness and apology for the whole ordeal. She realizes that lie has given her an advantage. I've said she has many admirers, not just me, but those back at home... like Gale.

"After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him too?" She asks tentatively.

"I did, the way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush," Portia responds in a soft, soothing voice.

Effie chirps up about the cameras showing our magical separation when the anthem played, as well as the screams of admiration and delight after my interview. The others are all shouting compliments then.

Haymitch's voice overrides the rest of theirs. "You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."

Turning to me apologetically, Katniss says, "I'm sorry I shoved you."

"Doesn't matter," I respond, shrugging like it's no big deal. "Although it's technically illegal." This comment brings us all to reality, the fate of us and what awaits tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, we will be flown to the arena. This fills me with a sadness I try to push away.

"Are your hands okay?" She asks, concerned.

"They'll be alright," I say, although it's a lie. Then again, she can't tell the difference. My heart has healed a little bit. My hands, though, seem irreplaceable. They'll toss me into the arena without treating my wounds. I probably can't even hold a weapon right, tomorrow, when my life is really in danger. The only thing saving me is the fact that I have the Careers as allies, though I know they will ultimately betray me and probably be the end of me.

As the smell of dinner flows and swirls in the air, everyone drifts toward the dining room, until Haymitch announces, "Come on, let's eat."

Before I get to eat, though, my blood remembers it's part of me and that it should be spurting- or at least dripping, and the blood from my hands run into my soup, a steady flow. Horror crosses Katniss' face, as she sees what she's done. Portia tells me I should get medical treatment and I follow her into my new and soon-to-be-lost, room.

As she treats my wounds, she asks, "What do you think? About going to the arena tomorrow?"

"I... I- uh, honestly? I'm scared, frightened beyond compare," I say. I decide to fully trust Portia, "But if I die, my dying wish can only be-"

"For Katniss to go home," Portia finishes for me.

I'm caught by surprise. "How did you know?" I gasp.

"I can see it in the way you look at her in concern. The genuine feelings you have for her are clear. In what you do, in what you say and answer. You're persuasive voice tonight could not have been one of a liar. Now, lets go back and join the others for the interview recap and see the crowd's reactions," she responds.

We walk back to the dining room to find Avoxes cleaning up. They look miserable, but point to the sitting room to tell us where the rest of our crew are.

Katniss sits on the main couch, tense and bracing herself. Haymitch sits lazily, not concerned at all. Effie is looking slightly worried, like our bad scores will reflect badly on her, although I'm sure she won't get hurt. Oh, these Capitol people. Cinna sits on another couch, looking at the screen with a calm face. He's there for Katniss, probably the neutral in the tension in the room.

I sit down next to Katniss quietly. I stare at the TV. The replays are on. We watch the interviews one by one. Glimmer from One, all sexy in her provocative gold dress and her blond hair and emerald eyes. Something tells me that in the arena, her real killer side will really be revealed. Her sexiness is only the shallow depths of the destroyer she can be. I saw her in training, okay with knives. Although she tries with the bow and arrow, she isn't very good, and no one can be as good as Katniss, but she's stubborn to admit that she has a bad aim . The boy from One, Marvel, is more relaxed, telling the audience how superior he is. He gives a confident smile when Caesar comments on his humor.

The girl from Two, Clove, is not hiding her inner murderer. "Knives," she says when asked her best reason she will survive. "I never miss a target. Never. And I will slit tributes' throats like no tomorrow." She gets many cheers from the audience as she gives a sweet, innocent smile after the insane comment.

This makes her an instant threat to Katniss. I have to protect Katniss. Although I'm teaming up with the Careers, I have to make sure they stay away from Katniss.

Cato (2) is up and he's talking about how confident he is about winning the Games. "Oh, we have a wonderful alliance going on. All you tributes better watch out because this pack is not going to be separated. And we're not showing any mercy." The audience is in a stunned silence and then bursts out in applause. This is the kind of tribute they want to cheer on. The one with control.

The other interviews fly through. The red-haired girl from Five catches my attention. She looks rather shy and innocent, like if she crashed into someone in the beginning of the Games, she's squeal and run away as fast as possible. "My name is Finch, but I am a bit more like a fox than a bird. Obviously, I can't fly, for one." The audience gives a big laugh and she looks relieved. "I analyze the situation and apply myself," she says when Caesar asks her the strategy she plans. "I'm swift and witty and I can hide pretty well too. I can use knives as well." She is the kind of girl who probably will not win. If the Games was based on intelligence, not on strength and survival, I'm sure she'd win. She'll watch the others get slaughtered and just run away. I think she'll last, though, a very long time. She doesn't seem like much of a threat to Katniss. Katniss could probably kill her if her life depended on it.

Soon, little Rue is up for her interview. She wears a multi-colored dress, that even includes little wings. Tonight she really was a bird. The audience sure loved her little bird getup. Very quiet and shy, she answers Caesar's questions. "I'm very hard to catch and if they can't catch me, they can't kill me." She is confident in saying this, and the audience claps for her respectfully, as she is the youngest tribute and definitely the smallest, probably with the smallest chance of winning. I wouldn't underestimate her, though.

Katniss' turn. She manages to choke out that what has impressed her most is the lamb stew. All of Panem must have been laughing for that joke. At the moment, Katniss, who is beside me, is blushing in embarrassment. Returning to the screen, Katniss twirls in her beautiful dress of reflective jewels that make her practically engulfed in flames. She tells the audience that her sister Prim told her to win and that she'll try very hard. This shows her dedication to her family and her determination to go home. One of the reasons why I want to protect her.

I'm mounting the stage on the replay. I make a few jokes that aren't funny at all to me now, but the audience laughs and in the very room, Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch are laughing. Soon my confession is said with embarrassment and Katniss is shown, shocked, not looking at the cameras, staring at the floor, blushing. The anthem is played as chaos erupts and the cameras show my separation. Then the replay is over and a blackness fills the screen. Effie switches it off and a silence lingers in the room. Tomorrow, we are going into our deaths, murders by other kids. We will wake up at dawn for final preparations. The Games start at ten because the lazy, lazy Capitol people rarely rise before that time. I think it's because they'll party all night or can't sleep because they are just so excited by the Games happening the next day. Their favorite pasttime is seeing kids get murdered and turned into monsters on live television.

We won't be able to see Haymitch or Effie tomorrow. Cinna and Portia will stay with us for a bit before launch time, but the real goodbyes are said here. There are sponsors for Haymitch and Effie to take care of, gift timings to be planned. It's comforting to know that Haymitch will be sending gifts at appropriate times for Katniss and me, that he'll watch over us. That he'll see me as I live my last moments, my sacrifice of life for the girl I love. The girl from the Seam. The girl I gave my bread to. The girl on fire. The girl I love and now the Capitol loves too, because of me. Katniss Everdeen.

Effie starts to tear up as she wishes us luck and grabs our hands. Reassuring who, herself or us, I can't say.

"You two have been te best tributes I have ever helped! I don't think we'll see each other again very soon, as I know you'll give a good fight. One of you, I'm sure will come home! After all, I trained you on SO many things!"

Trained us on "SO many things"? More like manners. Manners are surely the best weapon in a forest of crazy sociopath kid murderers. Manners will totally dave my life, not being able to find food or defend myself. Sometimes Effie says the most ridiculous things.

"Do you suppose I will get promoted into a better district than your drab District 12 for next year? I wouldn't be surprised! I probably will and I'll have a great future!" Effie continues. Katniss and I just nod. She gives us both gentle kisses on our cheeks, which must be a rarity and so very exclusive from her. She scurries off quickly, like she's under so much emotional stress or has something so much more important than saying goodbye to two kids who will most likely be slaughtered tomorrow.

Haymitch studies both of us. Crosses his arms.

To fill up the silence, I say, "Any final words of advice?"

"When the gong sounds, get te hell out of there," Haymitch says, nodding and agreeing with himself. Was that his strategy when he was young? Did he have next to nothing? "You're neither of you up to the blodd bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water," Haymitch seems satisfied with his finish, but then says, "Got it?" Like we will disobey.

"And after that?" Katniss asks, hoping for real, life-saving advice.

"Stay alive," Haymitch replies. He has said it before, but this time he means it for real. He's not drunk and out of it anymore. We nod.

Katniss heads back into her room for the night and I am about to as well, when Portia calls me back. We watch Katniss go and Haymitch tells us to join him in the sitting room, where we watched the interviews.

"My advice about not going to the Cornucopia," Haymitch starts, "make sure Katniss follows it. However, I do want you to go into the blood bath." He waits for it to sink in.

"But I could die!" I say, agast.

"Relax, remember that the Careers consider you one of them now. You just have to score some spears or knives. Kill only when someone's out for your blood. At least for the blood bath. Kill all you want throughout the day, but be careful in the Bloodbath. When the gong starts, you sprint into that Cornucopia and grab a weapon." Haymitch tells me.

I just nod and tell Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch that I'll stay in the sitting room for a while. They head to their rooms and tell me to get some rest.

I quickly change my clothes from the fabulous suit with flames. It's like I'm going back to the reality I tried to hide with the fantasy clothes and luxury. I attempt to sleep, but it is evident that after an hour, it is impossible. Faces of my family swirl through my head. Katniss dying is the most constant thought. The fact that I might not get to tell her that my love confession was real. The thought of not being able to protect her is overwhelming.

I slowly climb out of bed, as my hands ache and the bandages are a burden, in my nightclothes and I head up to the roof, too worried, about my Katniss' fate, my own inevitable death, and my family, to sleep. I listen to the windchimes and watch the rich people below celebrate. I feel more sick than ever during the Games. These Capitol people are celebrating our deaths. Bets will be placed. We are just entertainment.

I lose track of time as I watch the cheering crowds below. About two hours later, I hear her footsteps behind me.

"You should be getting some sleep," Katniss tells me.

I give a slight shake of my head and say sarcastically, "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."

She walks the extra yard to stand by my side. Looking down, she asks, "Are they in costume?"

I reply, "Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep either?"

"Couldn't turn my mind off," she replies with a sad smile.

"Thinking about your family?" I ask. All I can think of is Katniss not returning and Prim wailing with her cat named Buttercup. Their mother weeping, already having lost her husband. Katniss' father died in a mining accident when she was eleven. Poor, poor Prim and their mother, waiting for Katniss to come home as they are no doubt still waiting for the father.

"No," Katniss answers, which surprises me. Is she maybe just thinking about what will happen tomorrow, how many ways she can die? She admits, "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow, which is pointless, of course." Suddenly, she glances down at my hands and says, "I really am sorry about your hands."

"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I reply assuredly. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway." My only goal is to die saving her.

"That's no way to be thinking," she says softly.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and..." I hesitate a bir, trying to figure out how to explain the riled up emotions I've felt since I arrived here in the Capitol.

"And what?" She asks, curious and confused at what I want to say.

"I don't know how to say it exactly," I confess. "Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I know she isn't getting it. I want to show them that although I'm playing in their Game, I'm a boy, a boy that some people care about, a boy who matters. I don't want to be a killing machine, a cold-hearted person the Capitol concocted, like the muttations, an enhanced being that is changed into someone else, twisted and brainwashed. "I don't want them to change me in there," I continue. "Turn me onto some kind of monster that I'm not."

With some thought, Katniss asks me, "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to..." I hesitate again. "... to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

"But you're not," she protests. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I reason. "Don't you see?"

Confusion must cloud her thoughts as she answers, "A little. Only... no offense, but who cares, Peeta?"

Strangely, I'm made. Rage fills me. Heat so intense runs up my body, reddens my face. No one would ever understand. And there's nothing left in the world that I would really care for. I just want to be myself, not be controlled, when I die, die as a human being, one that kills with kindness not knives, or one that will love, love Katniss until the end of time.

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I bring my storming blue eyes to meet her gray ones. I am so mad that some simple concept can be lost, even by kids going to die.

"Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive," she responds, taking a step back.

"Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart," I say. I know it will hurt, but it's necessary.

"Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's tour choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve," she retorts hotly.

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do," I give another sad smile and know that truthfully, I wouldn't be surprised. She certainly has the determination. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"

I can't imagine what she's thinking as she says, "Count on it," and leaves the roof.

It must seem like I don't value my life or something. I do, but I don't have much to live for, except for keeping Katniss alive. I watch the cheering crowds below, wondering what life would be like if these people knew the pain us tributes will have to go through in the next few hours. For all I know, I could be dead in the morning.

I walk back to my room and slip in and out of nightmares. A mutt ripping my stomach open. Me turning into a raging beast and murdering anyone in sight, eventually Katniss and then myself. Small, sweet Rue, a little deceiver that stabs Katniss in the back. Literally. Finch blowtorching me to death with her red-orange hair whipping around her like the flames, cold eyes. Katniss shooting an arrow through me. Katniss eating poisonous berries. Katniss being drowned by the evil blonde-haired Glimmer. Clove throwing a knife at Katniss, piercing her leg and then throwing the final dagger through her heart. I decide sleep is not an option and lie down, staring in the darkness at the ceiling as light slowly filters in.

Portia slides in my room early in the morning, telling me it's time to leave for the arena, where the final preparation will be. We walk to the roof, where a hovercraft floats, waiting for Portia and me to board. A single ladder is all that's provided for us to head up and as I walk to it and place my hands and feet on the bottom, I'm suddenly being lifted inside, as I seem to feel paralyzed in midair.

A man approaches and tells me that he's going to inject my tracker. Then, he takes my arm and injects the tracker painfully into my forearm. This way, the Gamemakers can see where we are in the arena. Not like they don't have expensive cameras placed inside tree holes or something.

Portia comes up as the man walks away and an Avox leads us to a room, where my breakfast is sitting on a table. I eat slowly, bit by bit, knowing if I eat too much, in the arena I'd regret it. Outside, the city dissolves into wilderness, but for all I know, that could be just a changing image to throw me off about how far we've traveled and what the arena's conditions are like. Soon, it's pitch black, so we must be approaching the arena.

Portia and I climb down the ladder and we're in the Launch Room, where we do the final preparations before going to the arena. The clothes arrive as I take a shower. I try to cherish the warm water, as there will probably not be any warm water in the next few days, let alone a shower stall. As I change, Portia gives me a thorough explanation of the clothes. A large, black jacket is made to reflect body heat. Simple pants are built for exercise. A black T-shirt and belt finishes the outfit, along with boots that are built for distance running. Perhaps there will be a lot of hills and running needed? Could we possibly be in a forest of sorts?

"Are the clothes alright?" Portia asks, worriedly.

"Yes, just my size. How do you think they know how big the clothes have to be?" I ask, trying to distract myself from the horrors of the arena that are sure to come in just a matter of minutes.

"Well, I can't say for sure, but I know they have height and weight on the odds board at the marketplace in the city. Maybe your measurements are recorded elsewhere," Portia replies.

We sit down on a couch in the corner and I notice that I'm actually trembling. Portia offers me water and I gulp it down. I'm still trembling when a voice that's obviously recorded says that I have twenty seconds to step onto a metal platform that will rise to bring me up into the arena.

Portia hugs me and gives me a warm smile. "Good luck, Peeta. You're going to do just fine. We'll all be watching and knowing your sacrifice for Katniss."

I nod and step onto the plate as it rises. The last thing I see before the darkness engulfs me is Portia's face clouded with worry, even with the smile she tries to keep.

Fifteen seconds later, I can't seem to see. The darkness has made my eyes adjust to it and the sunlight burns. Slowly, my eyes get used to the light, and I feel a wind gust and slap me in the face, making me a bit dizzy. Before I can recover, I hear the boom of the voice of Cladius Templesmith, the announcer for the Games.

"Let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

**Special thanks to Jill Thompson for your words of comfort. Of course the fact that you still read this fanfic is comforting in itself because I know it's gotten harder to write with all the schoolwork and stuff ^^ So, really, thanks, and for all the readers out there :) **


	11. Chapter 11

Stepping off the plate before a whole minute passes and we blow up. Literally. We're all positioned in a circle, equidistant from the Cornucopia. The Cornucopia has all the supplies we need to survive, from knives to packs of fruit to matches. I get the side view, which is not good, because most of the good stuff is inside the Cornucopia. But that doesn't mean I can't get a weapon quickly. As you get closer to the Cornucopia, the prizes to collect become distinctly better. For example, a spear tip lies just a few yards in front of me, but a bunch of spears lie, tips and all, just inside the mouth of the Cornucopia.

All of us tributes seem to be standing on a field of short grass, flat, offering no means of concealment. Of course. This is the beginning of the Games, the Bloodbath, murder hotspot. You can't hide here, not now, not ever. A few tributes to my left there appears to be a drop in the land, like a cliff or some kind of extremely steep slope that looks impossible to climb. Across from me, there's a lake. I immediately wonder if the water there is safe to drink. It'd be an excellent way to get water, but it's in plain view. Behind and the right of me is a forest. The concentration of trees gets greater as you move further. I think I'll just get supplies and await instructions from my fellow allies.

I glance over at Cato. He catches my glance and gives me a knowing grin. I smile back and he motions to the Cornucopia, indicating that I am to collect supplies instead of running away. I nod and he gives me another grin. Sword, he mouths. He's going for the sword. I nod. I look over at my other allies, the other Careers. Marvel appears intent on a bunch of spears just inside the mouth of the Cornucopia, but glances up at me. I nod toward the spears and he makes a number one on each of his hands. Half and half. I nod eagerly and he gives me a decidedly evil, smug smile. Clove's chin is jutted out confidently and she glances at a jacket which no doubt contains knives. I nod my head at the spears that Marvel and I are going after. She looks at a girl three plates to my left and makes a slit throat motion. I recognize her as the girl from District 5, Finch, with distinguishing red hair. Already, Clove is making targets. I shrug and eye the boy next to her, the boy from 6. Glimmer gets my attention. Then, she makes a bow and arrow motion. I stifle a laugh. Her overestimation will get her killed. She can barely shoot those, but I fake a smile. She glances at the District 5 boy. I give her a small grin.

Next, I cough and Cato looks over at me, along with pretty much all of the other tributes, as they're dead silent. When most of them look away, I glance at the boy from 6. Cato glares at the girl from 7. In agreement, I look at Marvel and he catches my stare. He nods his head at the District 5 girl, and I shake my head. I look at Clove. Marvel appears to curse and looks at the District 7 boy. I nod.

The District 4 girl tries to get my attention but I ignore her because we only have a little more than ten seconds to prepare. I don't really care much about her, as she's not particularly strong-looking and didn't have much of a memorable score in training. I think she only got a seven?

I'm getting ready for the sprint to the Cornucopia and catch sight of Katniss, who's in the same position as me. I look around the Cornucopia to see what she's staring at. Then I see it, the set of the silver bow and the arrows. The quiver appears to hold maybe twenty three arrows, probably one for each tribute. The same one Glimmer was and must still be eying. She lifts her face to look at mine and I shake my head. She looks a bit confused, even though my message is clear as day: don't go for the bounty.

Suddenly the gong sounds and I sprint for the spears. Accidentally, I slam into Marvel as we reach for the spears and roll a few feet away from our goal. We both get up quickly and Marvel grabs a spear, ready to throw. At me.

"Whoa, hold up," I say.

"I thought we had an agreement," he says angrily.

"Alright, I'm sorry. How was I supposed to know we were going to slam into each other?" I say reasonably. "Just keep your end of the deal."

"Fine," Marvel says, tossing me half the spears. Suddenly, the boy from District 8 slams into Marvel. Marvel appears to struggle a bit, as the boy has a knife in his hand. I rush forward and am about to spear him with one of my spears, when a knife whizzes by my and impales itself in the boy's head. Marvel and I look up just in time to catch Clove's wicked smile before she turns around to chase the boy from 9, who's trying to run away with a backpack.

I hand Marvel an extra spear and apologize. He runs off into the battles raging aroun us. The world has erupted into chaos. I see tributes hacking away at each other and look for a target. Some tributes have fled into the forest or toward the sloping part of the arena. Cato is hacking away with his dream sword at the girl from 10. Glimmer is tumbling around with the girl from 3. Glimmer appears to stab her with an arrow in the leg. Glimmer gets up, leaving the girl moaning, unable to escape, and Glimmer moves on to help Cato with the girl from 10. District 5's boy kills the girl from District 9. The girl from 6 is already lying dead on the ground, as well as the boy from 9, due to Clove's superior knife-throwing. I turn away from the dead bodies and aim my spear at the boy from 6, who's about to disappear into the forest, but lower my weapon as he trips when the boy from 5 tackles him. He kicks him swiftly in the face and stomach. The boy from 6 is finished by the bag of apples that he slams into his skull. I never thought that a bag of apples could be a murder weapon. Then without hesitation, I release my spear and it pierces his back. Any chance of survival for him is gone. Bye bye, District 5's boy tribute. I feel a bit of heaviness for killing someone, but I have no time to spend worrying.

I drop my spears and tackle the boy from 7, who's picking up some knives nearby. We're rolling around a bit, and he punches me full in the face around three times. Now I'm the one on the bottom. He cuts my arm with a small knife, not unlike one of Clove's. I wrestle with him, as I am rather good at that. On top again, I punch him in the arms. However, he manages to turn the tables on me again. He has a weapon. Therefore, he has the advantage. He makes a gash in my arm and is about to slit my throat when his blood spatters in my face. I look up and the boy from 4 has stabbed him with a sword that looks extremely heavy in his arm. He looks at me and drops his sword. I remember he's one of my allies, from a Career district. Without notice, he lashes out and kicks me in the leg. My legs buckle beneath me and I collapse in pain.

The girl from 7 saves me, punching him in the face. Cato and Glimmer's stand before me and they both finish off the boy from 4, the traitor, as the girl from 4 kills the screaming girl from District 7, which I think is rather unfair, as she just saved my life.

"Traitor!" Cato spits in the boy from 4's face, before slashing at his arm. In one, neat slice, the boy has lost the ability to use his sword. Glimmer viciously punches him in the stomach until he collapses like I did. Cato picks him up like he weighs nothing and tosses him a few yards away, where he lands on his head, with a sickening crunch. Even though I can't see his face, I know what sight awaits. Unblinking eyes, staring at nothing, because he has just been killed brutally.

Clove and Marvel join us. Clove complains that the girl she had targeted Finch from District 5, hadn't even gone to the Cornucopia, running straight like a rocket into the woods. The tributes not killed by the brutal Careers have definitely fled toward the forest or toward the cliff-like drop-off. Cato helps me up a bit and I find myself somewhat limping. He relieves me from collecting duty, telling me to make sure I'm fit to run, as we'll be hunting tributes. Since the action is all gone and past now, I take to chance to jog near the drop-off and gaze at the view. There appears to be a field of grass and other dry plants, concealing anybody that could be hiding in them. They sway in the wind slightly and I immediately think that it wouldn't be so bad to hide in the field. There could be snakes, though, hidden dangers that a person can't even see from above. I turn away hastily.

Suddenly, a flash of moment catches my eye, the glint of the sun against silver near the ground at my feet. The girl from District Three is still alive. She grabs my more injured leg and I stumble, my face slamming to the ground before I can even make a sound. Cato hears the _thump _when I was forced to the ground and he snaps her neck before she can even defend herself. He helps me up for the second time in less than ten minutes and steadies me, as my leg seems to be rather unresponsive.

As my allies collect empty bottles, backpacks, weapons, and other items, a cannon boom interrupts us. The cannons signal deaths. There are ten more booms that follow and I blank out on those who died. There are thirteen kids left in the arena. Already gone in a matter of minutes, innocent lives for some stupid entertainment. But I know there's nothing I can do.

I think about the dead tributes and freak out, thinking of Katniss. Did she run into the Bloodbath when I told her not to? She can't possibly be dead! My whole goal would be gone. I would have no reason to live. I start to tremble a bit and have trouble breathing.

We all move away from most of the dead bodies, as a hovercraft appears and starts to take bodies. I don't recognize any of them as Katniss, and I feel like I can breathe again, with pure oxygen in my lungs.

Then, I catch snippets of Clove's rampage as I stare at the hovercraft and regain my breath. "Fire Girl just ran off and I had to come back for more knives! When I turned back around, she was gone!"

"Do we have to keep Peeta as an ally?" The girl from 4 asks. "We can't trust him, can we?"

"'Course we can't trust him!" Glimmer says a bit too loudly. They glance over at me, but I immediately look at the cut on my arm, which is actually bleeding heavily. I grab a backpack near me and locate a bandage. I stick it on my arm and the blood seems to slow.

"He slammed into me in the beginning! I think on purpose too!" Marvel says.

"I'm sure it was an accident. I mean, you were both heading for the spears. He's good at throwing spears and knives, Marvel. He's strong, actually, too. And he's our best bet of findin' Fire Girl, too! Maybe she actually believed him in his whole love act!" Cato tells them. The group laughs loudly.

They're playing me as I'm playing them... No problem, I'll manipulate them to trust me. I won't lead them to kill Katniss, though.

"Hey, Lover Boy!" Cato shouts, suddenly. I look up at him, which makes more laughter erupt. "He even knows his name too! Haha, come over here and join the party!"

I walk over to them, limping somewhat. "What's up, Cato?" I ask daringly.

"You didn't actually mean all that stupidness at the interviews did you?" Cato asks me, seriousness replacing the humor that was on his face previously.

"Nah," I say, mentally hoping the audience knew I was lying. "But I think she believes the lie!"

They all laugh and slap me on the back, congratulating me.

"Any idea where she could be?" Glimmer asks, seemingly integrating it gradually into the conversation.

"This early in the Game? No idea. I know she's alright with knives, but I don't think she's amazing like you are, Clove. It's a wonder she's survived so long!" I tell them, lying as much as possible.

They laugh for a while. Then, Clove grabs a tent that she scavenged from the remaining supplies and announces she's going to heads off with the girls to make camp near the lake. Marvel, Cato, and I check for the last of the supplies.

"I found more arrows for Glimmer," I say loudly after grabbing a few silver arrows that are strewn on the grass, caked in blood, a few meters away from the golden Cornucopia. I wipe the blood off with my shirt and wave them proudly in Marvel's direction.

"More spears for us as well," Marvel shouts, closer to the Cornucopia than me.

"Good," Cato replies. "Oooh! I found another sword. What do you think?" He pops out of the Cornucopia, slicing the air viciously with a gleeful grin. Only killing machines like him can take such joy in this kind of event.

"Perfect," I say. "Keep both your swords."

"Two more spears," reports Marvel. "I have two spears left. You, Peeta?"

"I have five left," I tell him.

"Give me one," Marvel demands, even though the distribution won't be equal. Better not to get into a fight with him about it.

I toss him one anyway and watch Cato lug crate after crate of survival items, probably containing food. Marvel and I help Cato carry them to the camp, which is by the lake.

Glimmer returns from setting up the camp as I carry the last barrel of supplies to our resting point. Marvel and Cato follow behind, talking to Glimmer. Clove joins them, glaring at Glimmer. I wonder what that could possibly be about. The girl from District Four comes over to me and introduces herself as Sal, short for Salmon because it was her parents' favorite fish which she thinks is an utterly stupid name. I stifle a laugh when I learn her name. As if Glimmer wasn't already a ridiculous name. She threatens to kill me if I ever call her Salmon and I assure her that I won't. Sal and I have walked around the lake a bit, so it takes us a few minutes to rejoin the others. Cato brags about what he has found inside the Cornucopia. The pile mostly consists of weapons: a few new swords, plenty of knives for Clove's collection, a quiver of arrows for Glimmer. Crates are opened to reveal food and other minor items. Clove, Glimmer, and Sal have done a good job setting up the camp, putting up a tent for us. However, I'm not sure we'll do much sleeping here in the arena. We'll definitely be picking off stray tributes, as we are the strong pack of the arena. Others fear us above all.

We sit around in the tent and blankets we set up for camp. Night falls around us as the Careers go down their list of kills. They play with their weapons, Clove spinning her knives on her fingers and Cato hacking blades of tall grass. I fix up my cuts and grab a bandage from one of the crates to stop the blood from my arm. The cut in my arm doesn't look terribly deep, but a lot of blood seems to be pooling out, courtesy of our friend, the traitor of District 4. The bandage is soon soaked, but the bleeding seems to have stopped. I relax on the grass, worrying about Katniss as the temperature drops rapidly. Soon, Sal grabs some thin blankets from a nearby crate and distributes them. She announces that the blankets won't be helpful when it truly gets colder, but it's all we can do for now. Soon, the anthem starts playing and although it's cold, we can't help but crawl out of the tent to watch the death recap. The sky shows the dead tributes of the day in district order and we all look up expectantly.

It'd take a long time to count who's dead and who's still barely surviving, so I decide to watch the count as well. First comes the girl from District Three. I suppose that means the boy from 3 has managed to flee and survive the Bloodbath. I glance at the image of the girl sympathetically, but my thoughts are on Katniss. For sure, none of my allies have killed her, but how is she holding up? What will she think of the death toll? Will she think I killed any of these innocent kids? Next comes the boy from District 4, the traitor that tried to kill me. Cato and my other allies let out a hoot of laughter at that, but deep inside, they were probably calling themselves idiots for teaming up with a traitor. The boy from District 5 shows up next. His district partner, Finch, escaped before Clove could get her, so Clove throws her knives angrily at the ground in the current moment. The boys and girls from District 6 and 7 flash by, as well as the boy from District 8 and the two from District 9. Ten kids so far and I tense, hoping it wasn't the little girl from District 11, Rue, who followed Katniss and me in practice. She is so young and innocent looking; I bet she can't even kill any of the tributes even with a knife as a weapon. She'd look silly with a sword and pretty much any other weapon. Above all, I'm sure she has to be the smallest, most innocent, and scared tribute in the arena. Of course, I would hope even more that Katniss isn't the other dead tribute. Something tells me that her life is what makes me useful to the Careers and of course, she's who matters the most to me, although the feeling most probably isn't mutual. After the slightest of hesitations, the last tribute's picture is shown. The girl from District Ten.

"Alright, allies!" Cato shouts. "Eleven are dead. That means only thirteen left to kill. Well, twelve because of yourself." He doesn't even bother to mention the subtracted number of our group. I know he will kill us all to survive. It's implied very clearly. He doesn't even have to say it.

"Can we go hunting, Cato? And I mean for tributes, not game." Glimmer shouts. "We already have a bunch of supplies gathered. No one's going to take too much from us."

"Let's do it!" Cato shouts. "Alright, everyone grab your weapons and whatever else you need. We'll be gone until around morning! I don't think anyone will steal our supplies. They know we're searching for them. They're all hiding." I even know it to be true. Everyone's already deep in the woodsy forest or the field of grasses in the other direction.

I grab my spears and a few apples, a water bottle. Enough supplies to last me for the night. Weapons are grabbed, but Cato buries a special sword deep in the supplies to make sure nothing happens to girls grab sleeping bags for all of us to use, light enough to store in our backpacks that we picked up from the remaining supplies after the Bloodbath. Apparently, two pairs of night-vision goggles were found in a backpack and Cato and Clove put them on, leading the pack. They also grab flashlights, making torches for the rest of us.

We head toward the vast, dark forest with only our determination and each other for company. My allies make as much noise as they choose. We're the predators that our prey is terrified of. No one is going to be hunting down the hunters. After tromping through the outskirts of the forest, Marvel suggests we move further in and we do.

Along the way, Clove and Cato make jokes about the horrible things they're going to do to some tributes. They already seem a little wacked. Sal soon complains that we've walked too long, so we settle down, not building a fire, just sitting. Suddenly, we see smoke building up toward the sky, somewhere near. Glimmer screams in glee and the others all jump in excitement, killing another tribute.

It's the girl from District 8. She's made a fire to keep warm and she screams as Cato stabs her somewhere near her stomach with a knife. We search through her backpack, but there's nothing good in the pack, just a water bottle and some food. Laughing, my allies skip away and I reluctantly follow them. We walk a few yards, but when we don't hear the cannon, Cato starts to feel nervous.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Clove asks.

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," Marvel replies.

"Unless she isn't dead," Glimmer says.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself," Cato shouts, angrily.

"Then where's the cannon?" Glimmer asks impatiently.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Sal yells at the others.

"Yeah, we don't want to track her down twice," Clove answers.

"I said she's dead!" Cato shouts again.

Everyone's fighting, yelling at each other. It's all chaotic, so I make my voice rise above the others. ""We're wasting time! I'll go finish her off and let's move on!"

**AN: HAHA! Finally changed + done!**


End file.
